


bring it home to you baby

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bedroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Closet Sex, I'll see myself out, Ice Play, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Spanking, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mild Daddy Kink, Office Sex, Size Kink, Sugar Daddy, accidental sugar daddy, hahahahaha get it, i just wanted to write gratuitous boning, minimal angst and vague plot, new tag i forgot to add earlier:, to be more specific:, writing out the word spanking took something from me somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: By accident, Shiro runs into Keith, and opens up his wallet.(And his heart.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for [iamtrulytrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtrulytrash/pseuds/iamtrulytrash)/[solvedbuzzfeed](https://solvedbuzzfeed.tumblr.com)  
> sorry it took me 5 years of promising to write you a sugar daddy fic but here we are. here we are.

It’s been a shit day, and Shiro’s yet to make it to the office.

He had been unceremoniously woken up by an unusually early video conference call with Gamara Tech, his company’s main competitor, that no one had told him was scheduled. Shiro had managed to fake connectivity issues for a few minutes while he combed down his hair and put on the upper half of his least wrinkled suit. He somehow made it through the meeting looking like he was put together, and no one was able to tell he wasn’t wearing any pants. By the time he had finished getting grilled, it made no sense to flop back into bed so he finished getting ready for work, called a cab because he was feeling too lazy to drive, and headed out the door.

The traffic is atrocious, more so than usual. Shiro and the driver run through the regular complaints about people not being able to drive, despite the fact they live in a huge metropolitan area and this is the standard. Midway through the commute, he gets a call from Lance, who rolls off all the days meetings for him. It gives Shiro a pinching headache in between his eyes, but he mentally catalogs what he’s going to need for each one, while scrolling through his emails on his second phone. He’s yet to get a cup of coffee in him, and he’s wondering if he should tell Lance to pick one up for him, or if he should go get it himself because his assistant perpetually gets his order wrong.

All this comes to a screeching halt when he reaches his office and tries to get out of his car. His initial instinct is to swing it open, because he’s in a rush, but his energy is still directed to listening about the impromptu meeting scheduled right before lunch, so he opens his car a little more gently.

It’s a small grace, because he’s too focused to pay attention when he opens the door, and ends up sending it into the path of a poor cyclist.  Shiro goes wide-eyed when he hears a loud _thunk_ , and watches in slow-motion as the guy and his bike go careening.

“I’ll call you back,” He says faintly into the phone before hanging up and slamming his car door shut. The driver steps out, but Shiro’s already rushing to the cyclist’s side. The cyclist is swearing but making moves to get up already, and Shiro does his best to assist. It’s only after he grabs the other man’s shoulders to help him up that Shiro fully registers what he’s looking at.

The man is a few inches shorter than Shiro, and visibly leaner. Shiro can feel strong wiry muscles under a white dress shirt from where his hands are on the man, steadying him as he stands. It’s not something Shiro normally notices off the bat, but his brain starts shutting down when he comes face to face with the guy because he is _beautiful_. This is a terrible observation on Shiro’s part.

“Jesus,” the other man splutters out, eyes narrowed sharply. “What the _fuck_?”

Shiro stares at the man’s mouth for a quick second before his remaining two brain cells decide to finally rub themselves together and spark him into acting like a decent human being.

“God I’m so sorry,” Shiro rushes out, and the guy elbows out of Shiro’s grasp. Shiro lets him go, watching as he limps over to his bike and gingerly bends down to pick it up. There’s a messenger bag lying on the ground and a laptop's sliding out of it, clearly banged up. Shiro winces. When the man bends down to pick up his bag, Shiro can see a giant gash on his forearm, starting just under where his sleeves are rolled up.

“I’ll pay for it,” Shiro says, and the man puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows.

“What part?” He asks, and his voice still has an edge to it. “My laptop? My bike? My road rash?”

Shiro doesn’t blame the guy for sounding like he wants to drop kick him into the sun. There’s something itching inside him to change that though; for now, Shiro’s just going to chalk it up to his need to generally be in everyone’s good books.

“All of it,” He blurts out, and the man’s expression shifts to surprised. “I’ll pay for all of it.”

 

* * *

 

The man’s name is Keith, he’s a few years younger than Shiro, and that’s all the information he gives. Once he mellows out in the cab, he’s also surprisingly nonchalant about the fact that he’d been sent flying just a few minutes ago. Shiro had insisted on taking him almost immediately to the doctor’s and getting him checked out to make sure there was no major damage.

“I’ll get you a new laptop,” Shiro says as the nurse gently dabs at Keith’s scrape. Aside from being a little bruised and scraped, Keith’s gotten the okay from Shiro’s personal physician. “And a new bike. And whatever else got damaged."

Keith lets out a small grunt as the nurse presses down a little too hard against his skin, and Shiro winces. He feels awful, and the nurse apologizes to Keith. Keith gives her a small half-smile and says it’s okay, and there’s an undercurrent of charm to it that Shiro knows he shouldn’t be focusing on.

“Give me your number,” Shiro says instead and Keith raises his eyebrows. “I’ll arrange to replace your things.”

He thinks for a brief second that Keith’s going to turn him down, or say something about insurance or reveal that the nonchalance is just an act and that he’s about to glean out a lot more money than Shiro’s offering at the moment. But Keith gives a non-committal shrug and recites his number out to Shiro while Shiro punches it into his phone.

Before he puts Keith in a cab and gives him a fifty for it to take him wherever, Shiro texts Keith with his name and a “ _call me_ _Shirt_ ”, and waits for Keith’s phone to buzz before officially sending him off. Shiro makes it back to the office just in time for the surprise meeting, and Keith texts him an “ _ok"._ It takes Shiro ten minutes to catch the typo and he's mortified.

Shiro knows that he can make Lance go out and buy a new laptop and a bike and have him deliver it to wherever Keith lives or works. And that’s what his initial plan is. But for some reason, Shiro can’t stop thinking about Keith. He tells himself it’s because of the accident and not because Keith looks like all of Shiro’s desires wrapped into one lean man with long legs and defined forearms. It’s stupid, and he’s pretty sure Keith’s got nothing but animosity towards him, but there’s something about how Keith looks that’s gently tapping away at Shiro’s monkey brain.

He tells himself that texting Keith and offering to take him shopping for whatever he needs to replace instead of sending someone else to do it, is Shiro’s way of assuring Keith that he’s genuinely sorry about what happened. Keith texts him back and tells him to meet him at a bikeshop a few blocks away after he’s finished work, and for the first time in in a long time, Shiro abandons any plans he had for staying back late at work.

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Keith says as they walk through rows of bikes. Shiro knows nothing about bikes, except for the fact that his grandpa recently bought a baby blue city bike with monogrammed handles. He’s just shown up at the shop Keith’s specified, and has told him to lead the way.

“Why not?” Shiro asks, watching as Keith bends down to inspect the tires of a lime green bicycle. He squeezes the tires and hums.

“I thought you’d just send me a good amount of money,” Keith says, voice distracted as he runs a thumb over the tread. “Get it done with quick, you know?”

“Well, do you want money?” Shiro asks almost immediately, and Keith looks up at him with pinched eyebrows.

“Let’s focus on the bike first,” Keith gives him the same half-smile he had given the nurse. It’s the first positive emotion he’s shown Shiro, and Shiro takes it as a positive sign.

“You don’t have to just look at the cheap ones,” Shiro offers after ten minutes of watching Keith inspect the rims of four different bikes in relative silence. He’s noticed that Keith’s just been going through the inexpensive road bikes at the front of the shop.

“My bike was shit,” Keith says, but Shiro catches the way his eyes start to drift towards the back of the shop. “I don’t need something too fancy.”

“Yeah?” Shiro gives Keith a good-natured smile, and Keith clears his throat and stands up. “You sure?”

It takes them twenty minutes for Keith to get a high-end road bike, and that’s after Shiro’s checked with him if he doesn’t want a sports bike instead.

“I might as well buy a car,” Keith informs him, and Shiro has to bite his lip from asking him if he’d prefer that over a bike. Shiro doesn’t spend too much money on himself, but he gets generous when he’s with friends. A voice reminds him that Keith’s not a friend, he’s an attractive man that Shiro accidentally doored and is now trying to make reparations with.

Shiro offers to put the bike in his SUV and drive Keith home, but Keith tells him it’s fine, he’ll ride his new bike back to his apartment. Shiro’s about to insist, is about to tell Keith that if they do that, they can pick up a new laptop for Keith as well and save themselves a second trip, but then the thought of taking a second trip latches on in Shiro’s brain, and any suggestions he has dies out on his tongue.

Shiro’s not going to be a creep and push for it though, so he asks Keith if he wants Shiro to send him money for a new laptop, and Keith shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” He says, but his face is contemplative. He looks at Shiro for an uncomfortably long second, and Shiro vaguely feels like he’s having a stare-down with a cat. “Whatever you think is easiest.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro doesn’t like to shop. Not with a crowd around anyways, and that’s what he uses as justification near the end of the week, when he asks Keith if he wants to go buy his laptop after the computer store near Shiro’s work closes. Shiro’s friends with the man who manages that franchise location, so he’s not swinging his money around as much as he’s calling in a favour. A paid favour.

“You really don’t want me to sue you, huh?” Keith says, staring around the empty store wide-eyed. Shiro’s told him to pick whatever he thinks will be a good replacement for the laptop he’s broken. Keith’s been pointing out the most expensive models, and Shiro’s just shrugged and told him to get if it’s what he wants.

“I mean,” Shiro scratches the back of his head, trying to think of an appropriate response that’s not _no but looking at your face makes me want to throw money at it_. Mercifully, Keith waves him off before he can say anything further.

“I’m kidding,” he says, elbowing Shiro gently in the side. It’s a friendly enough gesture that Shiro believes him, and points at one of the display laptops sitting on a wooden table.

“How about that one?” He asks, and he can see Keith’s eyes bug out.

“That’s worth three times my original one,” Keith says faintly, but Shiro can see the gears starting to turn in his head. “When I first bought it.”

“Take a look at it,” Shiro says. “Get it if it’s the one you want.”

“Christ,” Keith mutters, and spends fifteen minutes listening to a sales rep rattle off all the good qualities about the laptop and then prodding them for more detail.

It takes a lot longer than Shiro expects, but he’s not complaining. He chips in by telling Keith to get any upgrade he thinks will help, get any extra warranty, get it engraved if he wants it, and Keith for the most part tries to show a little reticence by debating whether the laptop’s worth all the money Shiro’s going to drop on it. It’s a little nice, because Shiro thought they’d walk in, Keith would pick out the most expensive model, and they’d walk back out. There’s a natural roughness to Keith’s voice that comes out the more he talks, and Shiro zones out on the conversation and focuses on the timbre of it.

“I feel like getting doored by you was a blessing in disguise,” Keith says when Shiro’s at the counter, swiping his credit card through. “This is a lot more than I expected.”

“I don’t want you to sue,” Shiro jokes, and Keith snorts as he tries not to look to enthusiastic when taking the bag from the sales rep. “Did you bike here?”

“Took the subway,” Keith said. “Figured I don’t want to risk breaking a new laptop either.”

“Want a ride home?” Shiro asks before he can stop himself. Keith squints at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do with the offer. “Probably safer than lugging that thing around.”

“I was going to get dinner on the way back,” Keith says, but it doesn’t really sound like a rejection. There’s a really good hot dog stand on the way to where Shiro’s parked anyways, and Keith looks like he’s hard pressed to say no.

“You know,” Keith says thoughtfully as he gets handed one of Sal’s special hot dogs. “You’re kind of cool.”

“Yeah?” Shiro watches as Keith upturns the ketchup bottle and shakes it over his hot dog. Shiro’s starving but has been patiently waiting for Keith to get his food before eating, but his eye twitches every time Keith opens up another condiment box.

“I thought you’d be a dick,” Keith shakes out three spoons of onions over lines of ketchup and mustard, and Shiro snorts. “People who door people normally are. Glad to know you’re not.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says dryly. “Glad you liked the laptop.”

Keith gives him a bit of a funny look as he bites into his food, and Shiro tries not to eat his own in one bite. Unlike last time, Keith’s a little more talkative, and tells Shiro he’s going to show off his new laptop at work till everyone gets sick of him. He won’t specify where he works, just that his direct manager is a hardass and his coworkers have a problem with making too many office bets. He’s apparently the subject of a few of them, and plays dumb so that he can play his friends.

Keith asks Shiro to drop him off in the east end of the city, where he says he’s been living for under a year. He stays in an older apartment building across from what looks like the world’s greasiest diner. Keith assures Shiro the food there’s better than anything he’ll ever get to taste, and Shiro tries not to take Keith’s suggestion that they eat there too seriously. Keith’s gotten pretty much what he needs from Shiro, and he’s not going to hinge his hopes on Keith actually trying to contact him.

Keith gives him a short salute as he closes the car door, and Shiro gets a glimpse of the bandage poking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. He spends the drive back home thinking about whether or not he should offer Keith another appointment with his physician. There’s a little voice that tells Shiro that maybe he should just ask Keith to hang out, but Shiro reasons that he needs to follow through on making up for the accident.

When he gets home, Keith’s texted him asking if he’s free Sunday afternoon. He doesn’t actually know whether he is or not, but Shiro texts back a _yep_ anyways.

 

* * *

 

They go to the diner Keith had talked about, and the food’s as amazing as Keith had claimed. Shiro attempts to show some decency while eating, but Keith’s already shovelling in a third helping of scrambled eggs from across the booth and it’s hard not to follow. They argue about a movie that Shiro’s been meaning to see for a while, that Keith states is a complete waste of time. Shiro thinks he’s wrong because the trailers kick ass, and Keith gives Shiro a look that seems to say that he shouldn’t be basing his opinions off trailers.

It’s easy to sit and talk to Keith, especially when he orders extra cherry pie as dessert. Keith pretends to go to the washroom and covers the bill for both of them, and implies that Shiro’s fun to hang out with. Fun enough for Keith to forget that he doored him at any rate.

A week later Shiro sends a car to Keith’s apartment to pick him up and bring him to a high-end oysteria. The prices make Keith’s eyes bug out a little, as does the bottle of tokaji Shiro orders for their table. It feels awfully date-like, but Keith says that he’s never had a friend who’s wanted to eat anywhere fancy before, mostly because all his friends are broke like him. Shiro latches onto the word “friend”, and uses it as a reminder to not try and make it too evident that he’s staring at the way Keith’s faded red sweater hangs on him and how he goes progressively pinker the more he drinks.

Keith gets drunk enough to whine when Shiro says he’s going to cover his bill, despite also muttering that it’s good because there’s no way Keith can afford anything they ate. Keith hugs him enthusiastically when Shiro drops him off at his apartment, and sends Shiro multiple misspelled texts to make sure he gets home alright. He also tells him its been a long time since he’s made a new friend, and the first time he’s made a friend that doesn’t think dinner at Denny’s is a viable hang out idea. The next morning, he sends one succinct _yikes sorry_ for the drunk texts, and Shiro saves all of them.

It’s a gateway into a new friendship that Shiro can appreciate. He’s got friends, but he’s never found it as easy to fall in sync with someone as he has with Keith. Even though he’s learning a lot of things about Keith, they talk like they’re old friends. They’re forthcoming and reserved in similar ways; Keith makes the same kind of stupid jokes he does, agrees that mini charcoal barbecues are a must in the city, and thinks that socks and sandals are indeed appropriate weekend wear.

Keith hasn’t told him where he works yet, but he does tell Shiro he likes to tinker around with the motorcycle at his parents house that he misses every time he gets on his bicycle. Shiro hasn’t told Keith where he works either, because people tend to ask a lot of questions when they find out, and sometimes it ends up being _all_ they want to talk to Shiro about. He doesn’t know what Keith does, but Shiro thinks it’s nice not being used as a stepping stool.

Shiro also learns that Keith, for whatever reason, has an aversion to jaywalking, despite living in the city. It’s a little strange, because they drive to a sports bar on a Wednesday night and Keith keeps egging Shiro to go faster and weave through the traffic, but looks warily at the road once they’ve parked and have to cross it on foot. The nearest light is a good three hundred meters away so Shiro grabs Keith’s elbow and herds him across the road, teasing him the entire way.

He learns a little something about himself too. Shiro learns that he likes spending money on Keith. He’s generous with friends, and Keith’s becoming one fast, so it makes sense. It’s what he tells himself when he foots the bill for all of Keith’s drinks and the fries that he gets and lets Keith cling onto him and tell him that Shiro’s his new favourite person, ever.

It takes seeing Keith’s eyes glimmer under the dim light of the pub, feeling his heart skip when Keith insists on buying Shiro at least one shot and hand feeding it to him, for Shiro to finally acknowledge that he’s heavily infatuated with the man in a way he can’t ignore.

 

* * *

 

Shiro figures that if he gets to know Keith more, he can tame whatever sharp spike of desire makes itself known when he sees him. If they hang out, he’ll stop feeling the low fire licking within him, telling him to press Keith into the nearest surface, horizontal or not. It doesn’t work.

He catches himself daydreaming at work sometimes when he’s trying to plug through report summaries before meetings. He thinks about how Keith had his sleeves rolled up the last time they met, and how his skin was healing decently over the roadburn. He finds himself dwelling on how pink Keith goes after only two drinks, and how he tries to kick Shiro under the table if Shiro tells him he’s drunk. Often, Shiro thinks how it’d be to kiss the taste of wine out of Keith’s mouth and get his hands under his clothes. He tries to stop himself from thinking about it too much at the office, because Lance has already come in and asked him why his eyes look glazed over, and that’s been one time too many.

It might – _might_ –  be reciprocated. Shiro catches Keith looking sometimes and he's not stupid. He can tell really easily if someone's attracted to him; half his career’s been built on being able to read people. When it comes to things like this though, he does his best to operate on some form of denial, just in case he's wrong or if it’s just a surface level attraction. With Keith, he doesn't want to be wrong. But he doesn't know how to approach it either, and he’s rarely the type to make the first move, so he decides to focus on being a good friend instead.

It’s the reason behind the gold-embossed shoebox currently sitting on the chair across from Shiro’s desk. Lance comes in with a stack of folders and his afternoon coffee, and hones in on the black box almost immediately.

“That looks expensive,” Lance squints at it as he passes it to dump the papers on Shiro’s desk. “And a few sizes too small for you.”

The shoes are for Keith, because he ruined his favourite boots. He had told Shiro he had been considering a funeral for them, because they came from a thrift store and there was no way he’d be able to afford to buy a fresh pair from the brand. Shiro had casually prodded for details about the shoe and the brand, found out a high-end local department store carried them, and had gotten it delivered to the office first thing in the morning.

“It’s for a friend,” Shiro says simply, and Lance hums thoughtfully. He slips his thumb under the lid and pops it open, whistling loudly when he sees the shoes.

“Must be a really good friend,” Lance says nonchalantly, and Shiro glares at him before going back to his work. “Someone new?”

“A friend,” Shiro reiterates, voice firm.

“Would you like it delivered?” Lance asks sweetly, and Shiro pointedly keeps his eyes fixed on his computer screen when he shakes his head. He wants to ask Lance why he snickers when he leaves, but drops it. Shiro thinks that maybe he should have taken up Lance on the offer to get it delivered, because he’s not sure how one approaches a relatively new friend and tells them he’s casually spent half a grand getting them new shoes.

Keith texts him near the end of the day, saying something about having seeing the movie Shiro had mentioned crop up on his Netflix. He asks Shiro if he wants to come over after work to watch it so that Keith can prove to him that it’s shitty. Shiro’s so enamoured by the fact that Keith remembers the movie at all that he says yes automatically, regardless of the fact that he had been planning to finish his work for a highly important meeting in the morning.

He still doesn’t know how he’s going to give Keith his gift without seeming too forward for a friend, so he leaves the shoes behind at his office.

 

* * *

 

It’s the first time Shiro’s been invited inside, and he tries not to look too excited about it. Keith’s already been home for a bit, and answers the door in sweats and a worn out university t-shirt with red pillow prints across his cheek. He grunts out a hello as he takes Shiro’s jacket, and he sounds like he’s yet to fully wake up. Shiro feels a little overdressed since he came straight from work, but he had been feeling too lazy to drive back to his apartment before going to Keith’s.

Keith’s place is small, too small for a grand tour, but he doesn’t have to share with a roommate. The privacy is worth the rent and the size, Keith explains, and he’s used to small places anyways. There’s a well loved couch in the middle of the living room, with books and comics scattered all over the table. The laptop Shiro had bought for Keith sits in the middle of a wooden coffee table, and he feels a twinge of pride over it.

“You want anything?” Keith calls from his kitchen, and Shiro shakes his head as he looks around before he remembers Keith probably can’t see him.

“It’s fine,” he replies, but Keith comes out with two opened beers anyways.

“If you don’t want yours, I’ll have it,” Keith says, but Shiro takes the offered bottle and clinks the neck against Keith’s.

A decent sized flat screen sits across from the sofa. Decent. Shiro thinks he can probably get Keith something bigger and better, and he thinks he should also stop thinking with his lizard brain. He watches covertly as Keith stands in front of the television, setting up the movie. The glow outlines his silhouette, his shirt sits snug across his back and Shiro openly stares until Keith turns back around.

The movie is really as shitty and excruciatingly long as Keith says it is. He tells Shiro that he should have known better than to doubt him, but in Shiro’s defence, one gets attached to a movie when they watch the trailer for it over and over again during their lunch break. The only reason Shiro can focus on the movie is because Keith’s got a hilarious running commentary and likes to elbow Shiro and inch closer to him every time there’s a dumb twist in the plot that he can’t help but point out.  Shiro tries to point out one or two redeeming factors about the movie, but Keith seems to hate it something passionate, and Shiro’s too amused to counter.

Halfway through the movie, Shiro notices the commentary’s died down significantly. He looks over and sees Keith dozing off, head tipped back against the sofa as his mouth hangs slightly open. It’s kind of cute, but mostly funny, and Shiro snorts at the sight before elbowing Keith, trying to get him to wake up. Keith opens his eyes and grumbles before shifting his head onto Shiro’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Long day,” He mutters into Shiro’s shirt and when Shiro tries to nudge him, he buries his head deeper. It takes five more minutes for him to start snoring softly, and he looks so peaceful that Shiro’s going to feel bad if he wakes him up.

Shiro’s at a bit of a weird angle though, so he slowly and carefully moves his arm out so it’s not sitting on his lap anymore. He slides it across Keith’s shoulders, and Keith goes easily into the crook of his arm, murmuring something in his sleep as he twists his body to get more comfortable. He’s still got a slight furrow in his brow, but Keith looks absolutely gorgeous when he sleeps, and it takes a lot of effort on Shiro’s part to tear his eyes away.

He manages to settle into finishing the rest of the movie with Keith cozied up to him. Without Keith prodding at the film, it’s only fractionally as interesting, but Shiro’s more honed in on the body pressed against his side. Keith’s sound asleep and Shiro knows this is probably a good time to leave, because he’s got to finish his work and Keith will probably be a lot more comfortable if he’s in his bed instead.

But he’s feeling a little selfish and really willing to feign interest in finishing the movie, so Shiro decides to stick it out, fiddling on his phone for the rest of the movie. If anything, the memory of Keith falling asleep against him will probably keep himself from gouging his own eyes out when he has to inevitably sit through an hour-long, poorly made powerpoint. It’s late when the credits roll, and he tries to wake Keith up with great reluctance.

“Hey,” Shiro gently nudges him. “I have to go now.”

Keith grumbles and plants his face further into Shiro's shirt, and Shiro's really tempted to stay like this for the rest of the night. He's almost in the verge of it too, but his phone pings with a reminder that he’s got a meeting tomorrow with a laundry list of things he has to remember before he goes in. Shiro wraps a hand around Keith's shoulder and shakes him gently.

“Keith,” his voice is a little louder now, but Shiro still keeps it sweet. “Wake up.”

“Wha–” Keith startles slightly, blinking as he registers where he is. Shiro gives him a smile, and Keith looks up at him.  Something about the way his eyes widen as the colours from the television play across his face makes Shiro’s heart stutter.  Keith’s mouth hangs slightly open and he blinks the sleep out his eyes.

Shiro’s brain starts to shut down, words caught in his throat as all he can do is tunnel his vision in on the man tucked up beside him. Shiro attempts to say something, maybe a goodbye, but one of them moves and suddenly, Shiro's got his lips pressed against Keith's.

It's brief, and they both stare wide eyed at each other when they break apart. Keith licks his lips and Shiro's eyes flit to it and this time when he feels the push he knows for sure that it's Keith that initiates the kiss. The effect of it is almost instantaneous; Shiro can feel himself start to melt.

Shiro moves his lips and presses his tongue gently against the seam of Keith's mouth, questioning but not insistent. Shiro can feel him waking up against him, can feel Keith growing bolder each second they kiss, and Shiro gets an inkling Keith's been wanting to do this as much as Shiro has. Keith opens up almost immediately, and starts to twist himself for a better angle. It doesn't take long for him to completely clamber onto Shiro's lap and press warm and flush against Shiro's torso. Shiro wraps his hands around Keith's sides, part to see if he can pull him closer, and part to steady Keith before he makes Shiro feel a little _too_ eager.

Keith runs his hands through Shiro’s hair, tugging Shiro forward to deepen the kiss. Shiro’s head is swimming, singing _finally finally finally_ as he commits the feel of Keith against him to his memory. He doesn't know what this means yet, so Shiro tests the waters, shifting his human hand so that he’s gently pushing up Keith’s shirt, brushing against warm skin.

Some part of Shiro’s trying to remind him that he’s been trying to show some form of self control, but Keith makes a satisfied noise, so Shiro shifts his right hand up further so that he can skate fingers across Keith’s ribs while his other hand sits on the small of Keith’s back. The temperature visibly ticks up once Shiro’s palm brushes over Keith’s chest, once he presses his thumb forward and makes Keith moan into his mouth.

The sound both roots Shiro into the moment and makes desire jolt through him like an electric current. His left hand sits on the small of Keith’s back, and he presses without thinking. Keith follows, and rolls his hips. Shiro can feel Keith through his sweats, can feel him growing hard as he repeats the motion. Keith’s getting sloppy with his mouth, and his tongue’s persistent as Shiro keeps encouraging him to move. Shiro plants his hands on Keith's hips, and without thinking, rolls him hard against Shiro's stomach.

Keith hisses and Shiro immediately stills and pulls back, but Keith’s still got him by the hair so he can't go far. Keith's mouth is red and kiss bitten, and the flush sits high on his face. His eyes are glimmering, expression imperceptible.

“You don’t have to stop,” Keith says, and his voice is so low and husky that Shiro’s got the immediate need to cater to him. He tilts forward to kiss Keith’s neck, nipping lightly where it meets the jaw as he moves Keith against him. Keith exhales sharply, and lets go of Shiro’s hair, opting to cling on to his shoulders instead.

Shiro lets himself indulge just a little, enough that he shifts Keith to roll down properly on his lap, where he’s starting to strain against his pants. The layers of cloth and the weight provides enough friction for Shiro to go a little crosseyed and open-mouthed against Keith’s neck. Keith grinds down on him harder, and Shiro’s struck by the immediate desire to know how it feels to be in Keith when they’re like this, Keith riding him on the couch.

It’s late, and he knows it’s something he won’t actually be able to follow through on in this moment, but Shiro slides under Keith’s waistband anyways. He grabs Keith’s ass, and pulls him forward again to rut against Shiro’s stomach. He contemplates pulling down Keith's pants, but Keith's slightly shaking under his hands and Shiro knows he doesn't need to. Keith drops his head so that their foreheads are touching, rolls his body hard, and comes silently with his eyes scrunched shut.

Shiro catches Keith as he slumps forward and buries his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck, and he can feel the warmth seep through the front of Keith's sweatpants. It doesn’t gross Shiro out as much as he thinks it should, and it’s probably got to do with the fact that he has a very sated, pliant body in his arms.

“God,” Keith’s breath tickles Shiro’s skin as he lets out a satisfied huff. “I feel like a teenager again.”

Shiro lets out a short laugh at that, and Keith shifts in his lap slightly before pressing a hand against Shiro’s chest and propping himself up.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, and his voice hasn’t lost the low edge from before. Keith plucks at the fabric of Shiro’s shirt before smoothing his palm over the white silk. It’s warm and solid and Shiro really, really wants to find out what Keith wants to do with him. He lets Keith kiss him again, slowly and sweetly this time, lets himself get lost in the way Keith’s moving his lips more lazily now that his urgency’s been dissipated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro says when they part to take a proper breath. Keith frowns at him, and Shiro leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I don't want to make a mess and I have to go anyways. Early day tomorrow.”

It’s a shitty excuse, but having Keith get off on top of him has done a lot for Shiro, and it’ll take the barest touch of intent for Shiro to come in his pants too. He doesn’t have the luxury of changing out of his pants, and he can’t exactly borrow any of Keith’s.

“I’ll use my mouth,” Keith insists, and Shiro kisses him to hide the groan he lets out at the proposition. Everything is screaming at Shiro to just give in, screaming at him that he’s finally managed to get Keith where he’s wanted him for a while, but he has to be pragmatic. He _does_ have an early and aggressively busy day tomorrow, where he’s going to have to inevitably lock horns with the executive vice president at Gamara.

He slides both his hands under Keith’s ass and squeezes, and by the way Keith grins around his mouth, Shiro knows Keith thinks he has him. Using the last, threadbare string of self control he has, Shiro hauls forward and onto his feet, with Keith still wrapped around him. His legs are strong and sure around Shiro, and Shiro has to mentally count to three to not ask Keith where his bedroom is. Keith slips his tongue in again, and Shiro responds eagerly enough that Keith doesn’t seem to fully notice when Shiro pries him off and drops him to the ground.

“I really should get going,” Shiro murmurs against Keith’s lips, ignoring the string of protests Keith comes out with after. Shiro kisses him goodbye at the door, and promises him he’ll take Keith out tomorrow after work. On a proper date.

“And then we’re going straight back to my place,” Keith informs him as he hands Shiro’s jacket over, and Shiro laughs before kissing Keith one last time.

It’s not till he’s back in his apartment, one hand pressed against the wall of his shower and  the other one’s wrapped around himself, that the full reality of it hits Shiro. He remembers the weight of Keith against him, the frantic way he moved, the fact that Shiro's been wanting and has managed to receive something in return, and comes with a loud groan shaped around Keith’s name.

 

* * *

 

Normally, Shiro’s hair and scar and sometimes his prosthetic lead people to believe he’s older than he actually is. He’s not a fan of it except for when it gets him through meetings without someone asking how a man who’s barely just entered his thirties has managed to work his way up so fast. Shiro’s young. He knows this. Everyone at his company’s made peace with this.

However, it’s a different story when he ends up in the boardroom office of his company’s top competitor, especially when they’ve bothered to do their research. Shiro’s in a meeting with a man who sounds like he’s nervous but talks like he’s cunning and flails like he’s got eight hands. The man’s partner in the meeting is a guy who looks unnervingly like a skinnier, Scandinavian version of Shiro, and talks with a heavy accent. Both of them simultaneously squinted at Shiro as he was shown into the boardroom, and asked him where his superior was. When he indicated that he _is_ the superior, it takes them a good five minutes to fully accept it.

Shiro’s company is collaborating on a project with Slav’s, as a show of amicability between the two businesses. They’ve been fierce competitors from before Shiro started working, and he’s hoping to draw them together to work on an initiative that’ll improve relations and stop the founding member of Shiro’s company from looking like he’s having an aneurysm when someone so much as _thinks_ of Gamara Tech. Shiro’s taken the brunt of the meetings despite the fact that everytime he talks to Slav or Sven, he feels that he should have chosen a different career path.

Sven’s voice drones at the perfect level to turn into white noise for Shiro. His mind shifts, slow at first, to the faint feeling of last night. It still feels like a fever dream, that he got Keith willing and eager and ready in his lap. Shiro thinks that maybe he should have stayed back after all, but the extra times allowed him to temper his hunger into something less desperate. Shiro’s managed to get a small taste of what Keith can give him, and he doesn't want to act too greedy because with Keith, he seems to always want more and more. He can still feel the weight of Keith against him, rolling his body to find his end and the put upon look Keith had given him when he didn't let Keith finish him.

Midway through, Slav tries to trick Shiro into looking like an idiot by drilling him with a slew of questions. Shiro answers them all in an easy manner, despite the twitch in his eyebrow, and throws back a few difficult ones of his own. At the same time, he manages to think about how Keith kisses like a dream, all eagerness and rough edge and demanding. He fits well against Shiro's body, leaner and smaller but sure of himself in a way Shiro knows will make his head spin. What Shiro just barely misses is Slav telling one of his three assistants to buzz an intern for a stack of numbers he wants to give Shiro before he goes.

It’s why when the glass doors to the boardroom open, Shiro does a double take. For a brief, stupid moment he thinks that maybe he slept less and he’s been projecting his desires too hard so they’ve manifested into him hallucinating Keith walking in with a stack of files and a slightly panicked expression. Keith doesn’t meet his eyes as he drops the folders in front of Shiro, and he looks like he’s either ready to bow or to turn tail and run away forever. In retrospect, Shiro now understands why Keith was a little secretive about his job.

“You can leave now,” Slav tells Keith, and it visibly takes Keith a few seconds to process the command. He still looks like a deer in headlights, and while Shiro’s got a good enough pokerface to not have the same expression, he definitely feels that way.

The feeling of shock carries him through the meeting and into his car back to the office. He’s gotten Lance to pick him up because he’s still got a few calls to hammer out on the way back, but Shiro feels distracted for the entire journey. He can’t quite articulate what it means to hook up with a top rival’s intern yet, and he can’t quite gauge what he feels about it.

His personal phone buzzes, and Shiro’s immediately filled with dread. He doesn’t open the message, but thinks he has a sense of what it says and won’t fault Keith for it if he’s right. Keith’s probably in a trickier position than Shiro is, and Shiro wonders if Keith’s known from before. He doesn’t open the message till he’s back at the company, holed up in his office with a glass of cognac as he looks at his phone with trepidation. Though it’s disappointing, it’s not a surprise when it’s a message from Keith, apologizing for the fact that he has to cancel on their plans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support guys omg. Big lorv

Keith doesn’t contact him for a week.

For the first few days, it’s fine. Shiro figures Keith needs space and time to process who Shiro is. He doesn’t know if Keith knew from before, but the look of discomfort on his face was genuine enough that Shiro knows not to push him. Shiro needs some time too, mostly to stare at the empty vase he keeps on top of his glass coffee table after he comes back from work,  as he contemplates just how big an ethical dilemma this presents.

Then it’s the weekend, and it’s the weekend that Shiro needs to go away to get his prosthetic worked on. He closes himself off to the world on the two days that he flies a few hours to Allura’s lab to get the kinks worked out from the arm. Shiro turns his personal phone off, gets an immense amount of work done, and goes out to one of the parks near his hotel to sit by an artificial pond and think about Keith.

Shiro still doesn’t know what to feel, thinks Keith’s position in this is a little harder, so he leaves the door open for Keith to make a move and waits for him to be the first one to send a text. The last text he sent Keith was a “ _hope everything’s okay_ ” after Keith canceled, and Keith had never replied.

He flies back Monday morning and uses whatever energy he has to make it through the work day despite the haze of exhaustion. He still hasn’t heard a word from Keith, but it’s not till he’s leaving the office late Tuesday night that he starts to let himself feel a little angsty over it. He’s doing his best to keep a lid on it and not act like a pining teenager, but he’s finding it hard to do for reasons he doesn’t quite know.

Or maybe, he does. Their friendship developed quickly, and Shiro doesn’t remember ever clicking with anyone so well, so immediately. It also helps that Keith looks like the physical culmination of Shiro’s id. By the way he moved on Shiro’s lap, Shiro thinks he might behave like it too.

By the end of Wednesday, Shiro gives in to the twitching urge to text Keith. He pours out a glass of whiskey after he sends Lance home, and shoots off something quick, a short “ _hey, how are you_?” to Keith. He drums his fingers on his desk, tears through a few emails he’s been putting off forever, even takes an unsolicited call from a colleague he has no actual interest in entertaining.

When he checks his phone that night, he sees that the message has been read. Keith still hasn’t replied.

 

* * *

 

The phone on his desk rings, and Shiro really, really doesn’t want to answer it. It’s Thursday evening, and he’s about to send Lance home so he can wallow and stew in his own office and maybe have some hopes in distracting himself with finishing off extra work. It’s better than sitting at home in front of his television in a stupor, it’s been an effective method in the past, and it’s why he’s been elevated to such a high position at thirty.

The phone rings again, and he sees it’s Lance calling from his desk at the front. He still doesn’t want to answer it.

“There’s a delivery boy here from Gamara,” Lance says when Shiro picks up. “Says he’s got some files.”

“Tell them to leave them on your desk,” Shiro says, before the name registers in his head. “Wait, Gamara?”

“Yep,” Lance says, popping the ‘p’. “He says he needs to come in and deliver them to you, in person. Hey, what did you say your name was?””

Shiro hears a faint, tinny, _I told you ten times already_ , and the voice is painfully recognizable. He can hear some rustling as Lance does a poor job of covering the receiver with his hand and happily says something about not remembering.

“Strangely insistent,” Lance says, uncovering the phone again. “Should I send him away?”

“No,” Shiro says before he takes a moment to even think about it. “Send him in.”

He hangs up the phone, and folds his hands in front of him, frowning.  As an after-thought, he picks up the receiver again and punches in Lance’s extension.

“Yes boss?” Lance chirps after the first ring’s barely done.

“You can take the rest of the evening off,” Shiro tells him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s not really subtle of Shiro, but his mind’s started to funnel down to one thing. Lance can’t say anything anyways aside from a “Sure boss,” and hang up. They’re the last two left at work, and while the frosted doors of his office offer some privacy, Shiro would rather there be no one there at all. It’s mostly because he knows what comes after someone ignores you for a week, and he can’t have Lance see him walk out of his own office with the ugly, pinched face of rejection.

It takes too long for the short knock on his door to come, and Shiro’s still not mentally prepared. He’s straightened out his shirt, his tie, and checked the camera on his phone to make sure his face doesn’t look at pathetic.

“Come in,” He says, with more calm than he feels, which is none. He’s been less nervous for pivotal meetings, though he stops himself from making that comparison because he’s long learned that it’s a good thing that he doesn’t approach personal relationships with the same intensity and command he approaches professional ones.

The doorknob turns painfully slow. Though he’s expected him, it still punches the air out of Shiro’s gut to see Keith standing at the door of his office, messenger bag slung over a black long-sleeve. Keith looks hesitant, and holds a couple of thick manila folders in his hand.  

“You can come in,” He says in what he hopes is a steady voice. Keith stares at him for a second before shuffling in, gently shutting the door behind him. He whistles, the sound shaking a little, and looks around the office.

“Wow,” He says, looking around. Shiro sees his eyes catch first on the black leather L-section and then the floor-to-ceiling windows that line Shiro’s office. “Nice digs.”

“It does the job,” Shiro says, gesturing towards his desk. “You had files?”

“Yeah uh,” Keith looks extremely unsure of himself as he walks towards the desk. Shiro makes no move to get up, but gives a small smile as Keith drops the files on his desk. “Slav said you wanted to do some extra reading.”

Shiro feels his temple throb slightly as he pulls the folders towards them and flips them open. They’re the first drafts of a few contracts that Slav said he was going to give a good amount of advanced notice for. Each page outlines a new way Shiro’s going to get a headache, and he already feels his eyes start to blur over the blocks of the 10pt text. Something clatters, and Shiro looks up with a pinched brow to see a wide-eyed Keith scramble to rearrange the tiny three-piece statue Shiro keeps on his desk.

Shiro slips back into a more relaxed expression, and he waves Keith off. “Don’t bother with it. Do you want to sit?”

Keith says nothing, and Shiro can read him well enough to know he’s got something on his mind. He can read him well enough to guess what it is. Shiro suddenly wishes he was at the other end of the large office instead of standing right in front of Shiro’s desk. That way, Shiro wouldn’t have to look him in the eye when the inevitable conversation crops up.

Keith drops his bag gently onto the chair across Shiro’s desk. He still doesn’t sit down; instead, he walks over to one of the windows to stare out at the city lights. Shiro likes to cut to the chase, but he gives Keith a moment and offers him a drink from where he’s still sitting at his desk.

“I’m good,” Keith says a little distractedly, before standing up a little straighter. He doesn’t look back at Shiro. “But thank you, sir.”

Something unfamiliar and conflicting rises within Shiro when he hears that. He chooses to ignore it for now, deciding to get up and join Keith at the window. He sneaks a glance at Keith, and sees his face set in concentration as his eyes flit, watching the cars on the street below.

“You don’t need to call me sir,” He says easily, thumping Keith on the back gently before shoving the hand into his pocket. “We’re friends, right?”

Keith’s face drops a little at that, and his hands fidget at his side before he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’d like to be,” He says. He opens his mouth, but then swallows whatever he was about to say. “I kind of had a clue from before though.”

“About this?” Shiro frowns, and turns to Keith. Keith still doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” Keith says quietly. “I looked you up after the second time we hung out. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t expect it to get this far.”

It’s open, and it’s come fast, so Shiro doesn’t know what to do with this information quite yet. He wonders why Keith didn’t tell him when he was at his place, and voices out as much.

“It was a lot to process,” Keith says. “I didn’t expect to see you at work at any rate. I’m just an intern in a different department there, so we don’t get to hear much about who’s coming till we see them.”

“Sorry for the surprise,” Shiro’s voice comes out a little dry and Keith makes a face.

“I lucked out with the internship,” Keith says. “You don’t normally get one this good if you’ve dropped out of grad school. I’d be in shit if any of my bosses found out.”

Shiro gets it. He really does. Keith’s got a lot more to lose if he sleeps with his company’s enemy. If Shiro was the head of HR maybe, or an R&D worker, they would have been fine. It’s a lot harder to hide the fact that Shiro’s the CFO.

“You can tell me these things,” Shiro sighs finally, but there's no heat in it. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would understand it a lot more than being cut off.”

“That was wrong on my part,” Keith says, sounding reserved. “I shouldn't have cut you off like that. I just panicked and didn’t know what to do.”

They stand side by side in silence, staring out the window. Shiro thinks he wouldn’t have acted much different than Keith if he was in his place, but it still stings a little because from the sound of it, Keith’s had second thoughts about proceeding any further than they’ve already gotten. It’s something that Shiro’s going to respect, but also wish with all his might to change. Even now, he feels inexplicably drawn to Keith.  Finally, Keith speaks.

“I want us to be friends,” Keith says earnestly, brushing his shoulder against Shiro before turning to face him. It brings him a lot closer than anticipated, and Shiro can’t get a read on the way his expression changes at the lack of distance.

Shiro catches Keith’s eyes gaze dropping lower, and what happens next feels completely natural, contrary to what his common sense is screaming at him. The kiss comes easily even though it shouldn’t, and though Keith initiates it, Shiro complies automatically, moving his lips in response. The tension of the moment thrums through them and doesn’t ease up as they kiss. On the contrary, it gets heavier, to the point where Shiro has to pull back.

“Friends, huh?” Shiro breathes as Keith looks up at him, mouth slick. “Should we be doing this?”

Keith pauses, the furrows his brow as he reaches for Shiro's tie and tugs.“Let’s get even first.”

Shiro follows with another kiss and he knows he should pull away, but Keith tastes good like this, feels good like this in a way that's too addictive for Shiro to stop on his own. He slides a hand up Keith’s back, and Keith automatically pushes his body flush against Shiro in a way that’s desperate enough to kick him into action.

Shiro starts backing Keith away from the window and towards his desk. His initial instinct is to temper Keith but when they break apart, Keith shoots him a searing look that reaches his core as the back of his legs hit Shiro’s desk. He parts them enough for Shiro to slot a thigh in between, rolls down on it once it’s there. Shiro can’t play stupid enough to ask what Keith means by “even”, nor can he play selfless enough to tell Keith this might just complicate things. He does try though.

“We don’t need to get even,” He says with no heart as Keith plants his hands on Shiro’s shoulder and uses it as leverage to hitch himself up further on Shiro’s thigh.

“We do,” Keith places a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses across Shiro’s jaw. “I don’t want this hanging over us.”

“You said you didn’t want to risk it,” Shiro counters as Keith tugs at his tie. It comes undone, and Keith drops it to the ground before fiddling with the top button of Shiro’s shirt. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

It’s really not, but Keith looks at him with so much desperation that the idea flickers out pathetically in Shiro’s head.

“Just once,” Keith says, slightly uncertain. His fingers give up on Shiro’s shirt, and drop down to Shiro’s belt buckle instead, pausing. “Please. And then we can be just friends.”

There’s neediness in his voice that Shiro has a hard time ignoring; there’s neediness curling within himself that’s even harder to avoid. They’re both adults and they both want it, and Shiro wants to forget whatever circumstance surrounds them.

“Okay,” He nods, kisses Keith on the corner of his mouth. “Just this once.”

Shiro’s belt slides off with ease, and Keith wastes no time in popping the button of his pants and shoving them and Shiro’s boxers down in one go. Shiro’s only half-hard when he’s freed, but Keith looks him in the eye as he licks his palm and reaches for him, and it starts to change fast.

The contact feels dangerous, and Shiro finally gets enough of his mind together to pull back, to remove his leg and pull Keith’s hand off his shirt. He means to put some distance between them, make one last insincere attempt to stop or at least slow things down, but he catches the dark look in Keith’s eyes and finds himself turning him by the wrist and pressing his chest against Keith’s back.

Keith props himself up on on the desk, and pushing back against Shiro. Keith unbuckles his own belt and shoves down his pants to his thighs and suddenly he’s on display a lot faster than Shiro expects. Shiro's brain shuts down and can’t form a single string of words.

A thick haze of lust settles on him, and he smooths his left hand over Keith’s skin. He leans over Keith, covering one of his hands with his own. Keith’s fingers curl under his synthetic palm, and tighten against the desk.

“Like this,” Keith says, voice low and rough. “Get off on me like this.”

“Someone might hear,” Shiro uses up the last of whatever reasoning he has left, and feels Keith rumble gently against him. It’s less to do with Shiro wanting to stop now, wanting to be smart, and more to do with him sticking his fingers in Keith’s mouth to keep him quiet.

“This place looked pretty empty,” Keith says, tilting his head back so that he can peck Shiro on the cheek. It’s a strangely intimate gesture, so Shiro gives him a brief kiss on his lips to cover it. “And I’m quiet anyways.”

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods before letting his head hang between his shoulders. It’s a stupid idea; this is probably the opposite of ending things before they start, and Shiro knows he’s going to replay this in his head a tleast a hundred times. But– Keith wants to get _even_. Shiro sends out a quick prayer that the office really is empty, and that there’s no one there to hear or walk in on them.

Shiro copies what Keith had done to him, licking his palm and slicking himself up further. He reaches down from the front and parts Keith’s legs wider so that he can slide in between them and press up against Keith. Shiro closes his eyes at the contact, and tries not to groan too loud. He shifts so he can wrap a hand around Keith, gripping his base as he rocks forward slightly, rubbing against Keith’s inner thigh.

Keith’s body is warm, firm, and the more Shiro feels it against him, silky against him and under his hands, the more Shiro wants from it. The friction is good, makes him harder, and Shiro’s willing to take whatever Keith’s willing to give him, regardless of how much his desire’s begging for more.

Shiro slides a hand under Keith’s shirt, running circles over his lower abdomen with his thumb. The amount of space across Keith’s width that his hand takes up makes Shiro’s head spin, and he feels one of Keith’s hands settle on top of his, pressing him harder against the skin. Shiro drifts down to palm at Keith as he gets himself off between the heat of his thighs, sloppily kissing Keith’s neck. Keith’s not loud at all, but he makes soft satisfied sounds that lets Shiro know he likes what he’s doing.

Shiro has a thought. It’s fleeting, and for a second he doesn’t know if he should do it, if Keith wants to even hear him talk like that. But Keith’s enjoying whatever is being done so far, and if he doesn’t like this, well—  he’s already told Shiro this is their one time, and that it’s not happening again.

Shiro presses forward, bending Keith further over his desk. Keith goes easily, all the way till he is almost flat against the wood. Shiro gently bites his earlobe as he ruts against him, pinning him and drawing soft moans as he works his hand around Keith.

“Too bad I'm not in you,” Shiro says, voice low. It works, and he feels Keith shiver against him. “You know I'd make it so good for you, baby.”

Keith inhales sharply, and Shiro can feel him squirm underneath him. He lets up, propping himself up with his free hand, but Keith grinds back against him and makes him a little dizzy. It’s all that he needs to go on.

“Yeah,” Shiro moves his hand to Keith’s lower back and pressing before rolling his hips forward. “Just like that, babe. Show me how you'd move for me.”

Even though Shiro's not in him, even though Shiro's just nestled between his thighs, Keith still rocks back onto Shiro hard, sending stars shooting through his vision. Shiro's started to leak and make a mess between them, dripping down the inside of Keith’s thigh, and he grabs Keith’s hips to guide him.

“God,” Shiro breathes, digging his fingers into Keith’s sides. “You’re so _good_.”

Keith lets an audible sound slip at that, a short moan that Shiro drinks up. It’s got a glimmering edge like a knife, and Shiro wonders if he’ll get the chance to draw out more. He leans forward again, dropping his weight against Keith’s back so he can pin him down in a new way. He tilts Keith’s hips for himself before he starts to jerk him off in earnest. He pulls no punches, works his hand fast as he rubs off against Keith, so that he can feel Keith’s body shake from the want underneath him.

“Tell me you think I won’t fuck you right,” Shiro whispers rough into his ear and Keith audibly chokes back on a whimper. “However you like it. Soft, slow, hard, fast. I could fuck you till you can't walk, if that's what you wanted.”

Keith comes into Shiro’s hand with his mouth open in a silent cry, taking short gasps of air. He slumps forward, and Shiro's not quite sure what protocol is here but he feels Keith start to move again underneath him. He eases off, lets go completely and Keith turns himself over, lying his back against the desk. Shiro automatically helps him, hiking up his legs so that he's more comfortable, and Keith doesn’t seem to mind that Shiro accidentally wipes off on his pants.

Keith shimmies a foot out of a pant leg so that he can hook his legs around Shiro. Shiro starts pushing at his shirt till it’s bunched up near his neck and starts licking kisses across Keith's bare chest, pinching at it in a way that has Keith arching underneath him. For the first time, Shiro's name spills out of Keith's mouth, and Shiro holds on to the sound and sinks into the rush that comes with it. He's close, just needs a little more, so he leans up to kiss Keith.

Shiro captures his mouth slow and filthy in junction with the rough way he ruts against Keith. He can feel  the heel of Keith's foot digging into his back and egging him on. Keith’s soft, spent, but Shiro can still feel him twitch with weak interest so he skims his right  hand up the side of Keith’s head and weaves his fingers through the hair before pulling back, breaking off their kiss and baring Keith’s neck. One of Keith’s hands immediately shoot down to Shiro and tugs while Shiro leans forward to latch onto his neck. He sucks, looks up to see if Keith’s ok with it and Keith twists his hand in a way that makes his eyes roll back.

Shiro comes with a groan that he muffles against Keith’s neck, and has to do his best not to just collapse onto Keith. He’s out of energy, but there’s something sparking inside him that wants to call out to the man on his desk.

His office fills with the sound of them trying to catch their breath in tandem, but Shiro can barely hear it over the thud of his own heartbeat. He ventures a look below him, and even though he’s already finished, his mouth still goes dry at seeing Keith more than half naked underneath him. His pink flush slowly fades away as his head lolls to the side and he looks at Shiro from the corner of his eye, a halo of papers scattered around him.

“I think we’re even,” Shiro finally says, once he’s managed to come down to a place where he can form more than one word consecutively.

“You don’t say,” Keith almost laughs, and reaches to fiddle with Shiro’s collar. He flattens a palm against Shiro’s chest, scrunching fingers up gently in undershirt before pushing. Shiro follows and leans back as Keith sits up on his desk. Keith pauses for a moment, and blinks at his hand like he can’t believe what’s just happened. Shiro realizes it’s probably also because it’s covered in Shiro’s come, so he scrambles for his drawers to yank out a pack of tissues.

That breaks the moment, and they silently scramble to put themselves back together. Keith wipes his hands with a tissue and grimaces at the state of his pants as he pulls them back up. Shiro tucks himself back in, zips up his pants, and when he goes to button up his shirt, he’s beat to it by two unsteady hands. Shiro watches as Keith doesn’t meet his gaze, looking at his buttons with a fierce intensity.

Keith bites his lip, and Shiro finds him automatically leaning in for a kiss. He stops right before contact, giving Keith a questioning look, but Keith reciprocates and pushes up against Shiro. He drops Shiro’s shirt and wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, drawing him in as close possible, and Shiro’s got a feeling that he’s not alone in not wanting to end this. Their tongues slick against each other for a few seconds before a sharp ringer cuts through the air. Keith shuffles, pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes wide-eyed at the caller ID. Shiro peeks and sees it’s someone called _IVERSON MANAGER_ and doesn’t blame Keith for practically vaulting off the desk.

Keith finishes doing up his pants and grabs his stuff off the floor. He picks up the call, and Shiro can hear a voice on the other start to rattle off a list of questions and winces in sympathy. Keith dutifully replies that yes, he’s delivered the papers and yes, Mr. Shirogane has confirmed that they’re the ones he needed and no, unfortunately Keith’s already left Mr. Shirogane’s office so he’s not able to ask any additional questions. Keith’s still on the phone as Shiro helps him sling on his messenger bag and walks him towards the door.

Keith leaves with a short distracted wave and Shiro watches as he departs, wondering where this leaves them now.

 

* * *

 

Shiro prepares himself for an emotional fallout. He’d be stupid not to expect it.

He prepares himself for Keith not texting him again, prepares for Keith to decide that maybe if they cut each other off completely it might actually work better than them trying to be friends. He’s ready to spend the weekend moping over Keith with a bottle of bourbon and a tub of ice cream, and then beating himself up over being stupid and hung up on Keith. All the preparation goes to waste, because Keith makes good on trying to bring things back to how they were before he climbed on top of Shiro’s lap. And then on top of his desk.

Keith had left his office without a goodbye, but had texted Shiro a _really sorry for ditching so quick thx for understanding_ an hour later, followed by an image of a cartoon man bawling his eyes out. Keith texts him again before bed, telling him that he’s glad they can be friends. Five minutes later, he sends an apology text for the random emotional message prior, then five minutes after that, he sends a link to a cat video before giving Shiro a chance to reply. Shiro resonates with the crying man, but also feels some form of relief at having Keith finally start to text him again.

Despite his best efforts, Shiro thinks a lot about Keith over the weekend. He tries not to, because it’s not like he can have Keith like that anyways. They’ve both gotten each other off, Shiro’s gotten a chance to know how a naked Keith looks and feels, and for all intents and purposes, he should be satisfied on at least a physical level. A logical part of him knows that this is _really_ not how this works, but he tries to trick himself into believing it anyways.

They talk throughout; Keith texts him about a movie he wants to see, Shiro tells him about running into weird neighbours in the elevators. It’s brief but easy, and Shiro tries to not let on that he’s been thinking about him. He thinks if he can ignore it, it’ll go away faster.

Keith asks him to see a movie early in the  week, if he’s not too busy. Shiro is, but he says yes anyways. He tells himself it’s because he needs to give himself a break and socialize with someone outside of work. He also tells himself that it’s better they hang out in a hall filled with other people, because the past two time it’s been just the two of them, they’ve not been able to keep their hands off each other. He remembers Keith kissing him, lingering even after he finished in his office, and thinks a movie is a good call.

“I’ll cover the tickets,” Keith says when Shiro meets up with him at the entrance to the cinema. It’s chilly, and he’s got a red parka on. Shiro forces himself to not see past that, because it’s not a date. However—

“That's fine,” Shiro replies as they step into the building. “I already bought them on the way here.”

Shiro figures his constant urge to spend money on Keith is low on the list of things he needs to get over, so he hasn’t even begun to approach how he’s going to shut down that urge. Thankfully, Keith doesn’t question it, just raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

Keith tries to pay for their food, but Shiro stands between him and the debit machine as he orders their popcorn.

“What kind of candy do you want?” He turns to ask Keith, like Keith’s not been trying to shove him out of the way, credit card in hand. “I said, I’m paying.”

“Why?” Keith protests, pushing at Shiro’s shoulder. It’s got a very impressive amount of force behind it, and Shiro has to focus on remaining rock solid. “And I can’t decide between those two on the top row.”

“We’ll take both,” Shiro tells the cashier, and taps his card against the machine as soon as she punches in the total. Keith finally lets out a huff and admits defeat, picking up the bags from the display and glaring at Shiro.

“Wow,” Keith says, voice in mock awe as Shiro grabs the two bags of popcorn with one hand and their drink cups with the other. “Two bags, huh? You've got a lot of money to throw around.”

“This is what tipped you off?” Shiro snickers, and Keith wrinkles his nose at him.

Even though the two back rows are empty, Keith picks seats closer to the middle where a few other people are already sitting. He says it’s for optimal viewing, even though they have to tilt a little back to look at the screen, but Shiro doesn’t question it. Keith runs a quiet, dry commentary through this movie, and it takes all of Shiro’s effort to keep a straight face. He bursts out laughing during a particularly tense scene and a few people turn to glare at him, including Keith, as if he wasn’t the one to describe exactly how the main antagonist looks like a cross of Shiro and a chinchilla.

It distracts Shiro from Keith’s presence beside him and his urge to lean against him halfway through the movie. He makes a conscience effort not to get too physically close to Keith, and it works. By the end of the movie, he’s feeling a little optimistic about their chance at hanging out as just friends. That _should_ ease at least some of the worries Keith has about their relationship.

Keith doesn’t let him give him a ride home, but he does let Shiro walk him to the subway station ten minutes away. Shiro goes in for a handshake as Keith goes in for a hug, but before Keith can change himself, Shiro pulls him into an embrace. They have a moment when they pull back and neither of them let go of each other, but Shiro takes one for the team and pats Keith on the back, telling him to have a good week at work.

He watches Keith retreat down the subway stairs, and thinks that this could work. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it’ll last long. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll stop crushing on Keith like he’s a highschool freshman again.

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of the week, Shiro remembers he’s still got a pair of shoes to give Keith. He remembers it when Lance goes hunting for a binder in his office, pulls out the box and asks Shiro if he can have them. Shiro gives him a resounding no despite Lance’s best efforts, and Lance pretends to mope for the rest of the day.

Shiro’s toyed with the idea of returning them, but it’ll be a lot of effort and time he doesn’t want to expend. He’d rather see Keith happy anyways so he texts Keith and asks him if he wants to meet up, because Shiro’s got something for him he’s been meaning to give him for a while.

Keith says he's busy, so Shiro asks him if he should get it delivered to Keith's home or work. Keith tells him that he wants to avoid talking to Lance for as long as possible. An hour later, Keith texts him and tells him instead that he's free on the upcoming weekend and Shiro’s welcome to come come over.

Shiro doesn’t think it’s the greatest idea, going over to Keith’s, especially if they’re just being friends. On the flip side, it would probably do them some good to learn how to sit on their hands, kill the desire and all that. He texts Keith an “ _are you sure?”_  and Keith replies with a “ _yeah. I want to see you_ ” that has Shiro pacing up and down his office.

He tells Keith he’ll be there first thing Saturday morning. Keith tells him to come by noon so that Keith can sleep in, and Shiro texts his gym buddy, asking him if he wants to reschedule for the morning. Shiro in general doesn’t like missing a day, but he figures if he can get a lot of excess energy out first thing in the morning, he’s not going to have to dig his nails into his palms when he’s at Keith’s. Not that hard, anyways. 

 

* * *

 

Something feels different when Shiro shows up to Keith’s apartment.

It’s noon, and Shiro’s come straight from the gym to Keith’s place. His body’s exhausted from his workout, but at least that’ll give him something to concentrate on. He’s left his duffle bag in his car, and he thinks he should have put on something better than grey sweats and a white shirt, but they’re just hanging out as friends. The paper bag sits beside him on the ground as he knocks.

The smell of soap hits Shiro like a wave, and he can see Keith’s hair is still damp from his shower when he opens the door and pokes his head out. Keith stares at him for a moment, and Shiro catches his eyes drifting down. It sends a small wave of want through him, and Keith’s text rings through his brain.

 _I want to see you_.

Shiro reminds himself that he broke a new record for himself deadlifting today, but it doesn’t pull his attention away from the freshly-showered Keith in front of him. That is until Keith fully opens the door to reveal his faded purple sweatshirt and violently orange basketball shorts. Shiro’s not huge on fashion at all, but the way the colours violently clash hurts him on a purely physical level, and he has to blink out the strain in his eyes. It turns his want into something more conflicting. He guesses he should be grateful for that.

“I have something for you,” Shiro holds out the paper bag with the box in lieu of greeting. Part of this is because he doesn’t know what to say, and part of it is so that he doesn’t have to look at more than one half of Keith at a time.

“Come in,” Keith opens the door further and steps to the side so that Shiro can walk in. He doesn’t take the bag from him yet, just gestures towards the general direction of inside. Shiro kicks off his shoes and places them neatly on the tray.

“How was your day?” Shiro asks, and Keith shrugs as he takes Shiro’s jacket.

“Just got up,” He says, and yawns slightly as he makes his way to the living room. “Late night at the office yesterday.”

Shiro follows, and leaves the bag on the coffee table. He thinks he should probably sit down on the couch, but all he can think about is what happened the last time he was here. Since that’s off the table but the train of thought has already started to chug through Shiro’s head, he decides to not sit down yet.

“I got it for you before-” Shiro cuts himself off, because he doesn’t want to make things awkward. “I got it a while back.”

“What is it?” Keith asks. He doesn’t take a seat either; he’s still eyeing Shiro as he joins him at his side, standing over the coffee table. He bends down and peers into the bag, before going a little wide-eyed and pulling out the box.

“Shit,” He swears under his breath, holding the box up at eye level. “Shit, Shiro, you shouldn’t have.”

“Eh,” Shiro tries to shrug nonchalantly while watching Keith’s amazed expression. “You’re a friend.”

“A friend,” Keith repeats faintly as he flips open the lid. The brown leather boots sit neat within the crinkled paper, their tag of authentication nestled proudly in between. “That's an awful lot to spend on a friend.”

“I like you,” Shiro says simply, because it's true. Keith's an interesting person, and Shiro gels with him in a way he hasn't been able to with others. He wants something beyond friendship from Keith, but the fact that he gets it at all is more than enough for Shiro.  “You're a good guy.”

Keith sets down the box in the table, leaving the lid open. Shiro doesn't know what to ask next, or if he should be speaking at all. There's a long, uncomfortable silence that stretches in between them for what feels like an eternity where they stare each other down. Keith purses his lips and pinches his eyebrows and Shiro thinks that maybe he should have returned the shoes after all.

“Was this too much?” He asks honestly. “I can take them back, I don’t want to make you feel too- _mmpf_.”

Shiro finds himself with a handful of Keith as Keith near-attacks him with a hug. He nearly gets knocked off balance, but he steadies the two of them as Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck, circling Keith's waist with his arms.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Keith starts, wrapping his arms around Shiro's back. “About you. I can’t just be your friend.”

“Keith, what are you–” Shiro starts, but gets cut off by a kiss. It takes him by surprise, and he stares wide-eyed for a second at Keith's lashes before closing his own eyes. There's a tongue already pressing against the line of his mouth, and Shiro lets it in.

Keith kisses him with urgency that says he’s been thinking about this for a while, trying to pull Shiro closer and closer. Shiro complies as much as he can, opening up for Keith and running a hand through his hair. The other one rubs circles into Keith’s lower back through his sweater, grounding Shiro.

“My work can't find out,” Keith pulls back and says determinedly. “And I'm not using you for money.”

“I didn't think you were,” Shiro says gently, even though he's ready to upturn his wallet for Keith. He tries to kiss Keith, but Keith ducks.

“I’m serious,” He tells Shiro, frowning. “I don’t want to hide, but I can’t have my boss know.”

“Are you planning to tell him?” Shiro asks easily, and Keith gives him a flat look. “ _I’m_ serious. I won’t tell anyone who you don’t want to know.”

Keith opens his mouth and pauses, before clamping it shut. He frowns, and Shiro tugs a little at his hair from where his hand is still tangled in it.

“Hey,” He says gently, and Keith’s eyes meet his.  Shiro’s heartbeat is thundering through his ears and something inside him’s feeling guttural in satisfaction, but he’s putting it aside for now to take care of Keith.

Despite the tangible energy Keith has buzzing through him, Shiro can see genuine concern in Keith’s face. He doesn’t want Keith to worry, but he also doesn’t want to brush it off completely. He’s not completely sure what he can say that’ll put Keith at ease, so he kisses Keith, chaste on the corner of his mouth.

“It’ll be fine,” Shiro murmurs, pressing lips against Keith’s cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose. “We’ll be fine. No one’s going to know what we don’t want them to.”

Keith sighs, and closes his eyes. They’re going to have to have a proper talk about this but for now, Shiro takes this as an opportunity to kiss him again. He squeezes the arm he has around Keith’s waist  and kisses him in a way that Shiro hopes reassures him. He can feel Keith go lax against him as he starts moving his lips again, squeezing the arms he has around Shiro. Shiro shifts the hand in Keith’s hair down to his neck, and decides to follow it with his mouth. He peppers kisses across Keith’s jaw and trails downwards, soft and wet.

He decides to test the water a little, and shifts his thumb under the hemline of Keith's sweater. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Shiro comes in contact with soft skin. He thumbs at it firmly, and it gets Keith to press in a solid line against him.

“Shiro,” Keith barely whispers, and it’s a little needy, a little questioning, but Shiro doesn’t want to assume. He focuses on sucking a soft mark instead, one that’ll fade in a few minutes but will give him something nice to look at.

“I’m here baby,” Shiro says into the crook of Keith’s neck, inhaling the traces of his pine-scented soap. “Tell me what you need.”

It’s quiet for a second, and Shiro can practically hear Keith think. Keith goes rigid, and then—

“Come here,” Keith says, fisting the front of Shiro’s shirt and yanking.

Shiro thinks Keith’s pulling him in for another kiss, but he’s pulling him backwards by the fabric. Shiro follows him eagerly for the twenty steps it takes to reach Keith’s bedroom.

The door’s closed, but before Keith can turn to open it, Shiro reaches down and grabs him by his thighs. He lifts Keith up, and Keith automatically wraps his legs around Shiro.

“Woah,” Keith says with enough awe that Shiro grins into their next kiss.

He shifts Keith’s weight onto his left arm while he grasps around with his right for the door knob. He toes the door open and walks into Keith’s room slowly, focused on the way Keith’s tongue is curling around his. It’s not till he has to come up for air that he has a chance to register his surroundings.

Keith’s room is fairly spartan; it’s barely decorated, save for a few diagrams pinned up on the wall and a poster of a car. Shiro’s sure that once he has a chance to properly look, he’ll notice more, but right now there’s only one goal on his mind. Therefore, there’s only one part of Keith’s room that Shiro’s been able to hone in on, and it’s causing him a little bit of distress.

“That’s not a bed,” Shiro frowns, craning his neck around Keith to get a proper look at the sad piece of furniture. He’s not quite sure if he can throw Keith onto that without it shattering into a million pieces.  “That’s a cot.”

“What?” Keith draws back, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Keith’s bed is small and looks like it’s maybe older than the both of them. Shiro’s pretty sure he sees a small _1983_ carved in the corner. He’s not sure how the old wooden frame’s stayed intact, and the mattress looks too thin to cushion them properly. Not unless Shiro puts Keith down really lightly and they go soft and slow.

“I really don’t think it can support the two of us,” Shiro tilts his chin towards the bed. “Or our weight.”

Keith gives him an incredulous expression and Shiro’s aware that he may or may not be killing the moment, but while the bed _may_ be big enough for Keith to lie down somewhat comfortably on, Shiro can already imagine himself falling off the side as soon as he tries to drape himself over Keith.

“What, you wanna just do it up here then?” Keith demands, shoving at Shiro’s shoulder a little. “Stop making fun of my furniture.”

Shiro thinks about it for a moment. He’s capable of doing it if he wants to. Shiro’s modest but he also knows his own strength and knows that if it really strikes him, he can hold Keith up in his arms and fuck him while he stands. The more he thinks about it, the more appealing it sounds, and he adjusts himself a little so that he can cup one hand under Keith and squeeze. Keith’s eyes widen, like he knows what Shiro’s contemplating.

“Bed,” Keith says, tries to command Shiro. “I don’t care if you think it’s too small.”

“Not like this?” Shiro teases lightly, but he knows the bed is the better option for now. He ambles towards it, and gives Keith a short kiss and grin before he dumps him unceremoniously on it. Keith lands with a bounce, and the bed gives a threatening crack. Both of them freeze at the sound, and Shiro _swears_ he sees Keith’s mattress sink down a little lower than it should.

“For fuck’s sakes,” Keith sits up so that he can pull Shiro onto the bed by the drawstrings of his pants. Shiro crawls on top of him and Keith’s hand automatically slides past the waistband of Shiro’s sweats, and squeezes the inside of his thigh. “Stop thinking about the bed.”

“I don’t want it to break,” Shiro says as Keith starts to palm at him. Keith presses in with the heel of his hand, and his words taper into a groan.

“Yeah?” Keith’s voice takes a challenging lilt to it, and he gives Shiro a crooked grin. “You think you’re gonna be that good?”

Shiro knows Keith’s not actually questioning him; he’s been the first to initiate everything, from climbing onto Shiro’s lap in his apartment, to bending over a desk for him, to leading him to his bedroom. Shiro wants to rise to the challenge anyways, because he doesn’t want Keith forgetting him any time soon, so he dips in for a hungry kiss and pushes Keith flat into the mattress.

He starts pushing down at Keith’s ugly shorts, and Keith kicks them off easily enough. Shiro doesn’t reach for the boxers yet, because he has a faint idea of what he wants to do with Keith, but he starts tugging at Keith’s shirt till Keith raises arms to slide it over his head. He licks a trail down Keith’s upper body, biting gently every now and then.

When he makes it to his boxers, Shiro buries his nose into Keith’s lower abdomen, and Keith bucks up. He starts to mouth at Keith over the cloth with as much intensity as he kissed him with, and Keith responds by arching _beautifully_ underneath him. Shiro makes sure that whatever pleased sound he makes, he does it at just the right spot for Keith to feel the vibrations of it.

Shiro can taste the cloth dampen from a mix of his mouth and Keith, and sucks over it a little harder, before pulling Keith’s underwear down by his teeth, just enough to let the head peek out. Shiro flattens a tongue over it while squeezing Keith through the cloth, and feels fingers dig into the back of his neck. He hooks his thumb into the waistband, pulling Keith’s boxers off completely as he starts to take him into his mouth.

Shiro can tell Keith’s trying really hard not to push into him completely despite however much he wants, so he reaches under to scoop Keith’s hips into his hand, lifting and relaxing his throat, taking him in fully. Keith hisses Shiro’s name, and Shiro hollows his cheeks and moves Keith until Keith plants his feet flat against the mattress and starts thrusting up into Shiro’s mouth on his own. He’s swearing up a storm and Shiro bobs, using his hand to cover what he doesn’t with his mouth.

This is how Shiro plans to make him come, because he hears Keith whimper out his name when Shiro takes him in deep and hums, and wants to taste him down his throat. Shiro pulls out every trick he knows, uses his tongue and his hand and his mouth in all the ways he knows will have Keith twisting and begging. He thinks he almost has Keith when he feels a fist wrap around his white tuft of hair and yank. He follows, letting Keith fall from his mouth as he looks up at him.

“In me,” Keith says roughly. His entire body’s flushed, and he's got an indiscernible expression on. Shiro’s world comes to standstill for a moment, before he fully registers what Keith's saying. It’s a rush then, to pull off his own shirt and kick off his sweatpants completely. Keith rummages through his drawers and throws a bottle of lube at Shiro before clambering on top of him and pushing Shiro onto his back.

Keith may not be loud, but when Shiro presses one, two, then eventually three fingers into him, he rolls onto them with enthusiasm. He sits back and rides Shiro’s fingers, using one hand to support himself on Shiro’s thigh as he grasps himself with the other. It’s a show, and Shiro commits it to memory.

He thinks Keith wants to ride him the same way maybe. Shiro also thinks that Keith likes it when he takes the reins, if the way his eyes blow out when Shiro stops him from moving and holds him still with one hand and opens him up deeper with the other is any indicator. When he thinks Keith’s stretched enough and Keith confirms with dark eyes and a “Shiro, _please_ ,”  Shiro rises up and flips them over, taking great care to not actually fall off the bed. He removes his fingers and hunts for the bottle of lube and one of the condoms Keith had thrown haphazardly onto the bed.

“Like this?” He asks as he rolls on the condom and slicks himself up. Keith nods, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist, and Shiro shuffles closer.

Shiro closes his eyes and ducks his head as he pushes in, letting out a long exhale as he feels the heat of Keith’s body. Keith's breath hitches and he clutches on to Shiro, telling him to keep on going, that he feels so good, so _so_ good and he wants more and more of Shiro.  It's slick and tight and Shiro unravels the further he goes. Shiro opens his eyes when he bottoms out, and Keith immediately pulls him in for a kiss.

“Give me a second,” Keith breathes, brushing his lips against Shiro’s as he speaks. “You’re big.”

Shiro wants to hide the fact that he goes red at that so he kisses Keith again, slow and sweet. He sits back after his heart rate has come down fractionally, pulling Keith’s lower half a little onto his lap to get a decent angle. Shiro takes this as a moment to absorb just how attractive Keith when he’s naked and wanting. He’s got defined muscle wrapped around a narrow frame, all hard lines that only soften when they reach his face. Dark hair fans out onto the pillow, and he’s not subtle about the way he rakes his eyes over Shiro.

“Good?” Shiro asks, and Keith makes an affirmative noise. Shiro takes this as his cue to start, gently moving in Keith to test out how much he likes it.

His hold on Keith’s hips is sure, and he gives short shallow thrusts so that Keith has a chance to get used to it. Keith grabs his forearms, and Shiro pushes in a little harder. Keith’s loosening up further underneath him, and by the way his face starts to completely relax, he’s enjoying this as much as Shiro is. Especially when Shiro wraps a hand around him to help him through it.

Shiro works him in tandem with how he moves in him, and feels Keith tremble underneath him. They build up a rhythm, and Shiro has to bite his tongue to control himself and not get too ahead, especially when Keith lets out short _oh oh yeah fuck oh Shiro oh Shiro Shiro_ _–_

“You said something about being quiet,” Shiro teases, and Keith tries to respond but his words get jumbled and all he manages to let out is Shiro’s name, hoarse and wet. The sound of it is lush, and Shiro wants to hear it again and again till it’s the only thing Keith’s capable of saying. He thrusts particularly hard, and Keith arches under him, straining as he takes whatever Shiro gives him. A hand shoots out to grab Shiro by the shoulder, digging nails in hard enough to leave marks.

“You said something about fucking me till I can’t walk,” Keith’s breathless like he’s barely hanging on to his coherency, and it’s a point of pride for Shiro. “If I wanted it.”

“Do you?” Shiro asks, though he knows the answer already, and feels a fresh spike of desire at the way Keith looks at him before he nods. He feels around for the lube, pulling out halfway to slick himself up some more before tossing it to the side and leaning over.

Shiro slides his arms under Keith’s thighs so that he can hook his arms under Keith’s knees and press forward, testing. He  finds that he can bend Keith enough that Shiro can fist his hands in the bedsheets for support. He likes it a lot, and by the way Keith goes a little cross-eyed, he does too.

Shiro starts again, slow for good measure. Keith’s a little louder a little faster this way, and Shiro gives it to him harder with each thrust. Keith says his name, long and drawn out and broken, and Shiro decides to pick up the pace. He focuses on fucking him with enough force to shift him up the bed and make him spill out a slew of curse words.

“This what you want, babe?” Shiro manages to find some semblance of mind to grit out. “Feels good?”

“Ye- _ah_ ,” Keith curls a hand in Shiro’s hair to pull him close. “God, yes, _yes_ _–_ ”

He gets lost enough in the heady feeling of having Keith on him, loose and pliant and finally making a steady stream of noises, that he can’t tell whether he’s balanced properly on the bed or not. Underneath the squeaking of the mattress and Keith’s increasingly frequent moans, Shiro can hear another wooden slat crack. It only encourages him to give it to Keith faster, harder, everything he can do to make Keith feel good. He wants it to brand Keith, to make Keith remember him long after he leaves his place.

It works, he thinks, because he can feel Keith falling apart underneath him with every thrust. Shiro’s vision is edging out as the bed rattles and protests underneath them, and he knows he’s getting close. He wants to get Keith off, but the adrenaline pumping through him doesn’t want him to break his rhythm.

“Touch yourself,” He finds himself telling Keith, firm and commanding. “I want you to come for me.”

Shiro watches Keith wrap long fingers around himself and start to tug as he leaks over his hand, clearly on an edge. Keith’s mouth falls open, and Shiro leans down to nip at his lower lip.

“Like this?” Keith manages to ask, eyes fully closed as he pulls himself off.

“Faster,” Shiro says. “Match me.”

Keith obeys him instantly, and his eyebrows furrow as he gets further lost into it.

“There we go babe,” Shiro’s torn between kissing Keith and watching his face as he comes. Keith bites his lip as he speeds his hand up to mirror Shiro’s intensity, and the decision gets made for him. “You’re so good for me, come on, come, show me how good you can be–”

Keith swallows up all the sounds he makes as he presses his head back into his pillow. Shiro feels the wetness catch him on his stomach, and watches Keith's face as he comes. He’s about to pull out and rub himself off on Keith’s stomach when Keith somehow senses this and uses his remaining strength to loop his hands around Shiro’s neck, squeeze his shaking thighs from where they’re wrapped around Shiro, and cling on limply. Shiro slows down, because he knows Keith’s going to be sensitive, and gives a few more hard, solid thrusts before he comes too, Keith’s name falling from his lips.

He rides it out in a shallow way till he’s fully spent, before letting go of Keith’s legs and sliding out. Keith lets out a short grunt and grimaces, and Shiro gives him a soothing kiss on his forehead.  He hovers above Keith for a second, trying to regain steady breathing as Keith does the same, looking as dazed as Shiro feels. Keith looks down between them and after a few more moments of panting, reaches down in between them to pull off the condom. He ties the end and rolls over, and Shiro takes it as his cue to flop onto his back. He watches Keith lean over his bed as he drops the condom into the trash and follows Shiro in lying back on the bed. They can’t fit properly side by side, but Shiro doesn’t think Keith will acknowledge that half his body is dangling off the mattress.

Their chests heave in sync, and Shiro tries his best to piece his brain back together. He’s hyper aware of Keith’s naked body against him and wants to pull him close, but they’re covered in sweat and come and it might not be the most pleasant experience for Keith. They’re silent for a minute, and Shiro works on processing just how good Keith felt. To his relief, Keith’s the first one to speak.

“Fuck me on the floor next time,” Keith says lazily, and Shiro’s heart tilts a little at the explicit mention of a next time. “I can’t believe you broke my bed.”

“I don’t think it was doing too well before,” Shiro tries not to sound too proud of himself, but Keith turns his head to the side to shoot Shiro a glare. “I _told_ you.”

“Maybe I can glue-gun it back together,” Keith suggests lazily, and Shiro snorts. “Hey, I’d just need five bucks and some elbow grease. Maybe you can lend it to me.”

Keith shifts, angling himself so that he can press a soft, open-mouthed kiss against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro looks down at him, Keith winks at him, and he has to look back up before he starts blushing.

“We barely fit on this bed,” Shiro says, staring at the ceiling and trying not to smile like an idiot. Keith turns fully towards him, and Shiro curls an arm around him. Keith ends up continuing onto his path and rolling completely onto Shiro, despite being a sweaty, sticky mess. “You need a new one.”

“Yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow, and the corner of Shiro’s mouth gives in and slides into a half-grin. “With whose money?”

Shiro hums thoughtfully, reaching up to twist a lock of Keith’s hair with a finger. Keith protests gently at it, and playfully swats at Shiro’s hands. The movement causes the bed to give a dangerous creak again, and Shiro thinks it’s not going to take much for the rest of the planks to break as well.

“Mine,” Shiro replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the chapter count has gone up. No it's not because the original plot has changed. It's 100% so that I can write about them boning more. I'm a simple person...

 Shiro’s been avoiding relationships for the past few years. It’s not because he’s scared of love or doesn’t know how to love. Shiro knows how to love; he loves his friends, he loves his family, he loves the small bungalow where his grandpa raised him, he loves his grandpa, and he loves the fat old cat his grandpa adopted when Shiro moved out for college.

Maybe one or two things are secretly simmering under the surface, but the main reason Shiro’s avoided relationships has been because he hasn’t had enough time to put effort into anything beyond a simple hookup. It means that he’s managed to land an unusually high-level position for someone his age, but it also means that Shiro’s worried he doesn’t know how to fully act now that he’s found someone that’s worth the effort.

Putting in time with Keith doesn’t feel complicated, nor does it feel like he’s fulfilling some sort of obligation. But he’s concerned he’s going to be stiff, going to come off as a cardboard cutout and it’s going to scare Keith off, so he compensates by taking Keith on flashy dates. His favourite are the dinners, because Shiro enjoys sitting across from Keith as he complains about a coworker or entertains him with his college adventures, even when he gets too enthusiastic over a story and accidentally kicks Shiro under the table.

Shiro knows that he doesn't necessarily have to throw his money around, but he likes it when Keith tries and fails to hide the way his eyes bug out a little when they're at a high end Japanese restaurant and the bottle of sake Shiro buys to split between them costs half his rent. He likes it when Keith says he's going to order the cheapest thing on the menu, and Shiro teases him about it until he orders what he actually wants. He likes seeing the way Keith's shirt isn't buttoned up properly, because Keith had told Shiro to come up for coffee because he was running late in getting ready.

(It had turned out that Keith just wanted to press Shiro against the door as soon as he stepped through it and rock his world right then and there. They barely made the cutoff time for their reservation, and Shiro’s pretty sure his under-shirt’s still on Keith’s floor somewhere.)

Shiro also buys Keith a new bed. It’s not obnoxious; it’s a dark rich wood frame close to the ground with a mattress that probably costs more than any given item in Keith’s apartment, minus the laptop and the bike. Shiro gets him sheets too. Egyptian Cotton with a high thread count, not because he knows much about linen, but because he knows those feel the best against bare skin.

Keith complains good naturedly that it's on the bigger side. It does take up approximately half of his room, but Shiro argues it’s space he wasn’t using anyways. Keith also tells him rich bedsheets don’t feel any different from regular ones, and teases Shiro for wasting his money and not just buying something from Ikea.

Shiro keeps telling Keith to stop ragging about the bed, but Keith doesn’t listen and continues teasing him long after it’s been delivered and assembled. So that Keith can gain a deeper appreciation for it, Shiro puts Keith on his hands and knees on the bed and fucks him till he’s drooling into the pillow and praising Shiro in broken whimpers.

Afterwards, Shiro stands him under the shower and washes his hair while letting Keith lean his entire body weight against him. Keith sleepily concedes that this bed may just be slightly better than his old one, which has seen him through life since he was fourteen. Shiro’s happy Keith likes the gift and a little disappointed he didn’t make Keith scream with the way he just put him through his paces. Keith informs him that that’s just how it is, and it’ll take Shiro a lot more to make him loud.

Keith keeps telling Shiro he’s fine with just a movie and a simple dinner, but Shiro wants to show him a good time. He picks him up one night to take him to steakhouse, where Keith puts down sixteen ounces at an impressive rate. Keith tries to make a joke about Shiro and the different cuts on the steak menu, and the way it falls flat causes Shiro to laugh harder than the joke itself. They’ve got an opera to go to after, because Shiro saw earlier in the week that tickets were coveted and it activated in him whatever inspires him to spend copious amounts of money on Keith.

The only problem is that Shiro’s never been to an opera before. Neither has Keith. Keith claims in general he doesn’t listen to music, and Shiro’s not quite sure if his expression is _too_ deadpan when he says it. Shiro looks up online what the most impressive seating is; he’s not quite sure if getting seats in the opera box is a good idea, but they seem to be the fanciest so he goes with it.

They reach the opera and Shiro gives the keys to the valet and it’s all high and fancy. Shiro thinks about the time he and a friend had to scrounge for nosebleeds at a concert and thinks he’s earned the ability to take his date out somewhere nice. He thinks that they’re technically still sitting in the nosebleeds, except these nosebleeds have prestige in them because people can see Shiro in his black Dunhill suit and Keith in his slightly too big suit that he forgot to return after his college graduation. Shiro’s fingers itch to replace it with something more luxurious, and when he suggests it to Keith, Keith tells him he wants a smoking jacket instead.

The opera starts, and it’s lovely. It really is. Shiro doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he likes it. It’s almost like a lullaby. A loud, endless lullaby. He also knows he’s picked a horrible place to go on a date, because operas are beautiful but Keith and him are perhaps not cultured enough to enjoy one.

Halfway through, it’s affirmed when Shiro hears a gentle snore beside him. He turns his head to look at Keith, and Keith’s sitting at full attention, back straight. His eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open just the slightest bit, and it’s almost impressive at how he maintains proper seating as he naps through the song being belted out.

“Keith,” Shiro mutters out of the corner of his mouth. He elbows Keith gently, and whispers a little louder. “Hey, Keith.”

“Wha–” Keith smacks his lips a bit too loudly as he comes awake, and the other couple sharing the booth give them a withering look. Shiro can’t blame them.

By the time Shiro takes Keith home, they’re too tired to mess around like usual. To his credit, Shiro tries, but he used up his last conscious energy driving them back to his apartment, so he dozes off mid-makeout session. Keith doesn’t laugh at him too hard, and they end up tucking into bed. The satisfaction of waking up with Keith in his arms, drowning in one of Shiro’s worn out t-shirts as his hair tickles Shiro’s nose, more than makes up for last night.

Shiro tries to make breakfast, and burns the eggs, the toast, and somehow the cheese spread. He’s about to order breakfast from the concierge but Keith insists they go somewhere greasy and deep-fried instead. The cost of both their meals equals to maybe four of the eggs that Shiro desecrated, but it tastes infinitely better than anything Shiro can even dream of cooking.

Keith tries the washroom trick again to cover the bill, and Shiro watches out of the corner of his eye as the waitress informs him politely that Shiro had already slipped her a fifty for the meal at the beginning. Shiro winks when Keith looks over at him and Keith rolls his eyes. He buys two slices of cheesecake anyways from the display just to spite Shiro.

This has been the first time in a while that Shiro’s decided to carve out time for a relationship. He watches Keith march over with two plates of cake, and thinks that it’s proving to be worth it.

 

* * *

 

It also becomes a thing with Keith to tease him about how much money Shiro spends on him. Shiro thinks Keith exaggerates how excessive he is; he’s just a naturally generous man. He tells Keith as much when they’re sitting in a small city park, eating jumbo hot dogs as they people-watch on a Saturday afternoon. They’re both a little drunk because Shiro had taken them to a posh microbrewery earlier in the day, less out of love for beer and more out of the desire to get tipsy before twelve.

“You would have been really useful in university,” Keith jokes, elbowing Shiro and Shiro gives a grin that’s probably big enough to scare a few passerbys. “Are you sure you’re not having a midlife crisis?”

“I’m only a few years older,” Shiro scolds, even though there’s no real heat behind it. Keith’s only six years younger than him, but he likes to joke about being the trophy boyfriend Shiro’s picked up to feel young again. To Shiro’s horror, Keith actually uses the words “trophy boyfriend” when telling Lance to let him into Shiro’s office.

“I’m missing the trophy part,” Shiro catches Lance saying just as he reaches Lance’s desk. Lance had informed him that a stranger whose name he couldn’t fully catch was at the front, and Shiro had caught on quick.  “Don’t you have to be hot for that?”

“Would you be able to tell?” Keith asks sweetly. “Your eyes are so small.”

Keith had told Shiro a week ago that he and Lance had gone to the same university, and have a mutual friend in Hunk, the guy who had recommended Lance to Shiro. Keith also told Shiro that Lance had had an imaginary rivalry with Keith before he switched majors in their undergrad, and he’s never been able to let go of it. Shiro’s not heard the full story from Lance, and at this point he’s not quite sure if he wants to. It’s kind of weird for Shiro, but at least he doesn’t have to make excuses for Keith’s presence in the office anymore.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Lance demands. “I can still see ugly.”

Shiro clears his throat. Keith looks at Lance smugly while Lance jumps in his seat and raises his hands.

“Sorry boss,” He says, sounding more apologetic about the fact that he got caught. Shiro waves him off while he glares at Keith, who gives him an innocent expression.

“Stop calling yourself my mid-life crisis,” Shiro says as he herds Keith into his office and closes the door behind him. “I’m only thirty.”

“Yes sir,” Keith drawls, giving Shiro a shit-eating grin as he strides over to the couch in Shiro’s office and drops down on it gracelessly. He looks expectantly at Shiro, who levels him with a highly unimpressed face. It normally works on the office workers in the pen, but it only makes Keith grin wider. Shiro decides to try something new, and walks back to his desk to resume his work instead of entertaining Keith.

He manages to ignore Keith’s presence for the better part of an hour, until he hits a wall with his work. Shiro realizes he’s been staring at the same sentence on his screen for five minutes before he looks over at the sofa, watching Keith tap away at his laptop in utmost concentration and generally looking more productive than Shiro.

Shiro calls Lance’s desk and tells him that he can cut early and go home. Lance manages to sound only mildly put off when he replies, and Keith doesn’t look up from his laptop once while Shiro speaks.

Shiro waits ten minutes and calls Lance’s desk to make sure it’s going to voicemail. He double checks his door’s locked, and strides over to the couch to ask Keith if he’s got a minute. Keith sets down his laptop, and Shiro barely has time to properly proposition him before Keith’s pulling him down onto the sofa.

Keith takes him apart in the best way, and Shiro’s head feels a lot clearer afterwards. It eases the tension that’s been burdening his shoulders all day, and even though they’ve been relatively careful in not making a mess, Shiro still makes a note to get his couch steam-cleaned. They didn’t manage to take all their clothes off in time, and Shiro knows they've delegated themselves to having to stay at the office till late, when everyone’s truly gone and no one’s there to see the state of their clothes when they leave.

“Distinguished CFO defiles a young intern on his office couch,” Keith says from where he’s propped up on Shiro’s chest, and Shiro gives him a flat look. “Sounds like a midlife crisis to me.”

“You’re not my intern,” Shiro points out, but Keith just winks at him. He’s spent, but the action still makes his heart do a small flip. “Hey, I’m young too.”

Keith narrows his eyes and smiles, a lazy “ _if you say so_ ” look, and Shiro digs his fingers into Keith’s sides, tickling him. Keith yelps and tries to grab at Shiro as he flails and starts to fall off the couch, but Shiro uses his weight to anchor himself down on the sofa. Keith lands with a thud and a curse, and Shiro turns his head to peer over the couch and give Keith a smug look. Keith grumbles but makes no effort to get up from the plush carpet, instead ineffectually flopping his arm to thwack Shiro’s side.

He knows Keith's just teasing him, but the gears in Shiro’s head start turning anyways. He knows he technically doesn’t need to prove anymore to Keith that he’s cool or interesting (despite whatever Keith teases him with, Keith’s equally lavish with praise) or that he’s rich (Keith is _acutely_ aware of this) but Keith’s started a game and Shiro is determined to win.

The answer comes to him a couple of days later. Allura sends him an email telling him she’s going to be in town next week, and she’s bringing some of her team with her. She tells him he owes her at least one entertaining night while she's there as a reward for a few of the upgrades she snuck onto his prosthetic arm during his last visit, and Shiro thinks he’s found a way to show Keith a little more fun.

 

* * *

 

By the time Keith shows up, the group’s already killed a large bottle of expensive cognac and Shiro’s happily settled into being tipsy.

They’re in a private lounge at one of the more exciting nightclubs in the downtown core of the city; it’s fancy, with it’s own music, a leather white L-section that lines the wall, and it’s own ever shifting light. The centre of the glass table is carved out in small circles, each filled with ice and a bottle of whatever Lance called and told the hostess to put in when he booked the place under Shiro's name.

The room’s a little more crowded than the normal, but Shiro doesn’t mind. Allura’s here, and she’s brought along one of the best engineers in her department, a small but deadly woman who’s one of Allura’s top enablers when it comes to adding non-regulation modifications to Shiro’s arm. So far, Pidge has downed an impressive amount of alcohol for her size, and is eyeing one of the bottles of scotch.

Because Allura’s here, both Lance and Lotor have shown up and are currently sandwiching her on one end of the sofa, trying to act significantly cooler than they are. Lance likes to pretend that he’s here as Shiro’s personal assistant, but Shiro knows he’s here so that he can try and make moves on Allura and brag to the rest of his friends about how he spent his Friday night. Hunk’s here on Shiro’s invite and Lance’s insistence and Lotor’s been a recent addition to Shiro’s nights out, after he broke off from his father’s company right before it went under.

Before Shiro had good money, he hadn’t been the biggest fan of clubs. He didn’t like paying an outrageous cover, the long lineups, or the awkward swaying people would do with him in order to get drinks out of him. He still can’t dance for shit, nor does he ever try, but now that he _does_ have money, the experience is infinitely better. Shiro enjoys sitting in a lounge with his friends while they drink and talk and occasionally go out onto the floor and flail around like an idiot with a bottle of unnecessarily expensive vodka.

He also enjoys the mildly awed expression Keith has when the hostess opens the door to let him into the lounge. Shiro’s not going to explicitly say he’s showing off, but he had sent a driver in a black Escalade to retrieve Keith from his apartment and has switched out the watch he was wearing earlier today for a bigger, sleeker Hublot. Shiro's still wearing his clothes from the office, sans suit jacket. Allura’s already given him grief for it, but Shiro's rolled up the sleeves of his grey dress shirt to compensate.

A hostess opens the door with a smile, and Keith looks like a deer in headlights when he steps in, his eyes darting around the room. They land on Hunk first and he relaxes a minute amount.

“Keith!” Hunk cheers, raising his glass. Everyone follows and Keith gives an awkward wave to the group before he hones in on Shiro, who’s trying to not look too eager at Keith’s arrival. That’s when Shiro fully registers what Keith’s wearing, and his brain starts to slowly shut down.

Keith’s dressed like he belongs in a roadhouse. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a simple white undershirt and worn out black jeans. A silver chain disappears into his shirt, and Keith’s got his hair tied in a ponytail. It screams bad boy in the precise way that Shiro likes, and even though Keith’s face is unsure, he’s still holding himself with a natural ease. He’s glad he told Keith to meet him at the club, because he’s not sure if they’d have made it out to begin with if Shiro had gone to pick him up.

“Keith,” Shiro greets, aware of how the sound slurs a bit  but unable to care about it. “Baby, c’mere.”

“Shiro,” Keith says warningly but Shiro's already told the room at large that he's got a boyfriend, one that's really hot, one that he's really sweet on, and after a few drinks, one that's the reason he never allows anyone to eat off his desk anymore. Lance's long suffering look has yet to leave his face, and Shiro has reminded Lance that he told Shiro to think of him as a friend as well as an employee during his interview.

Keith walks over to where Shiro’s sitting, and Shiro tries to tug him down by his wrist onto his lap. Keith manages to slide down beside him instead. Undeterred, Shiro swings an arm around Keith and pulls him close and presses his glass against Keith’s mouth. Keith lets out a sigh, and takes a short gulp before pushing the glass away.

Shiro introduces Keith to everyone, going around the circle. Keith’s heard of Allura and Lotor, knows Hunk from before, gives a polite hello to Pidge and pretends he’s never seen Lance in his life. Lance may be muttering _Shiro’s my boss Shiro’s my boss Shiro’s my boss_ under his breath, but Shiro pretends he doesn’t catch it. He’s concentrating more on how Keith’s looking around the room, taking in the sight.

“Nice digs,” He finally says, and Shiro grins.

“Just a regular night out,” Shiro leans forward to crack open the bottle of scotch. “Drink?”

Shiro pours out a glass for Keith and passes the bottle around. The room resumes its normal chatter, with Hunk asking Keith how he’s been and Allura asking him about his work. Everyone seems to be highly amused that Shiro’s dating an intern from the company that’s been giving him a headache for the past few months, and Lance calls Keith Shiro’s midlife crisis before Keith can.

“I’m your boss,” Shiro warns Lance, and Lance acts like he doesn’t hear. It’s what Shiro gets, he guesses, for hiring a friend of a friend who’s in need of cash.

Keith seems a little more relaxed now that he knows that everyone else knows who he is, but he’s still pressed in a warm solid line against Shiro and is sipping his drink slowly. When he’s sure no one’s looking or paying attention, Shiro leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth. Keith turns his head to meet Shiro halfway, and Shiro melts into the kiss that follows. He hasn’t seen Keith since the start of the week, and while that’s not too long a time, he’s still deeply appreciative of Keith’s presence.  He tries to deepen the kiss, but Keith must still be self-conscious because he gently pushes Shiro off.

“Later,” He tells Shiro lowly, and that’s good enough for Shiro to feel disproportionately happy. The fact that he’s surrounded by his friends and has his ridiculously attractive boyfriend tucked into his side may have something to do with it as well.

“Is this a smoker’s room?” Lotor interrupts the moment, already digging into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls out a dark leather case and pops it open. Lotor doesn’t wait for an answer before he produces a gold-plated lighter and engraved cigar scissors, because he's the type of man whose fashion gets thought pieces in GQ.

“It is,” Shiro affirms, even though Lotor’s already pushed out the cigars from his case. He snips the end of all three expertly, and cuts the other side of two of them before handing the last one to Lance. Lance looks confused for a second, especially when Lotor passes him the scissors and lighter.

“Cut it for your boss,” Lotor explains, and Lance makes a face at him.  

“Does it look like I can cut a cigar?” Lance says dryly. “I smoke cigarillos like the rest of us broke office minions.”

“Give me that,” Keith says, rolling his eyes as Lance tosses him the cutters. Keith catches it easily out of the air with one hand, but gets thwacked square in the centre of his forehead with the lighter. Keith looks like he’s about to threaten Lance, but Lotor beats him to it.

“Throw the cigar and I’ll kill you on the spot,” Lotor warns, and Lance gives him the finger but  sticks the cigar on an empty glass before setting it on the table and sliding it down to where Keith and Shiro are sitting. Keith leans forward, shuffling up the couch  and reaching for the cigar, but Shiro beats him to it.

Shiro leans back against the cushions and sticks  the cigar in between his teeth, giving a crooked grin around it. He raises an eyebrow and Keith mirrors it before leaning in and snipping off the end. Keith takes the gold plated lighter from Lance, but Shiro’s here to show off to Keith as much as he is to have a good time, so he stops Keith from moving in. He raises his prosthetic arm and pinches the tip of the cigar. He maintains eye contact with Keith as his hand starts to glow purple, and the end of the cigar starts to glow orange and smoke. He lets go, taking care not to touch Keith with his hand till it cools down.

“Another Altea Tech special,” Allura says, sounding a little proud. “Technically I’m going to have to remove that feature next visit but we thought we’d have a little fun.”

“That looks like a safety hazard,” Lance grumbles, but no one acknowledges him.

Lance titters something about showing off, but Keith’s looking at Shiro with such intensity that Shiro’s focus tunnels and he can’t hear anyone else. He takes a slow inhale, turns his head to the side to and sends a cloud curling out as he gives a short salute to Lotor in thanks. Lotor gives him a flat look before sending out a short burst of smoke from his nostrils, and Shiro can feel Keith press in further to his side.

“Want some?” Shiro tips the end of the cigar towards Keith, and Keith takes it. He ducks his head, his bangs falling softly in front of his face as hollows his cheeks to take a drag. The sight of it tugs low at Shiro, and he commits the way Keith's mouth looks wrapped around the cigar to memory. Keith blows out the smoke in Shiro’s face and offers him back the cigar. Shiro needs to ask someone else if they want to share otherwise he’s going to lay Keith out on the couch in front of everyone.

But Lance has a hand up, blocking his face from their view, while Pidge is saying something that’s got Hunk cracking up, and Allura’s commandeered the third cigar and is discussing something intently with Lotor. Shiro lets Keith put it in his mouth for him, before taking it and puffing around it. Keith watches Shiro billow out smoke, and downs the rest of his drink in one go. He pours himself another one, and Shiro feels pleased that Keith's decided to join him in at least getting tipsy. He has to work to keep up a conversation with the others and not slip into his own world with Keith as they pass the cigar back and forth, but Shiro's already thinking about coming back and renting a room for just the two of them to get drunk in.

Eventually, Allura gets fed up with only talking to the group in the room, and asks Pidge if she wants to head out and see if they can score a few free drinks.

“I can ask for some to get sent here,” Shiro frowns, wondering why they don't just ask him, but Allura rolls her eyes and Pidge snickers. “What?”

They leave without giving him an answer, and predictably, it takes less than twenty seconds for Lotor and Lance to level each other with challenging looks before Lotor’s putting out his cigar and Lance is practically vaulting over an ottoman to get out of the door.

“They're going to be alone forever,” Hunk observes as the door slams shut.

“I'll drink to that,” Keith raises his glass, and they all toast to the statement before Hunk chooses to not be a third wheel and heads out as well.

“We should go too,” Keith says when Hunk leaves, setting down his glass. Shiro snubs out what's left of the cigar on the side of his empty glass and drops it in. “Change of scenery.”

It's a good thought, one that Shiro would love to entertain if he wasn't so focused on twisting in his seat and grabbing Keith's thigh with a hand.

“I suck at dancing,” Shiro informs him before leaning in to finally kiss Keith the way he wants.

This time Keith opens up almost immediately, and Shiro tastes the alcohol and the ash and the faintest trace of peppermint on Keith's tongue. Shiro pulls and tugs and manhandles Keith till Keith's on his lap, slotted up against him. It's slow and easy and it's what Shiro's been waiting for all night.

He basks in finally getting Keith's proper attention, and wastes no time in sliding his hand down and cupping Keith's ass, drawing him closer. Keith entertains him for a few more moments before he’s drawing back. Shiro lets out a small whine and tries to pull Keith back onto him, but Keith slides off his lap.

“I suck at dancing too,” Keith says, laughing as Shiro tries to look as put out as possible. “But I want to see the rest of this place.”

There’s not much else to see, and Shiro thinks it’ll be a lot more fun if they stay in the lounge, but he lets Keith drag him out by the wrist anyways. To make the journey easier, Shiro grabs the half-empty bottle of scotch on his way out. They make their way through the small hall that leads to the mouth of a set of steep stairs going down. Before they descend, Shiro pulls Keith in for another kiss to make sure that Keith wouldn’t rather just make use of the empty, private lounge. Keith’s adamant on going, and Shiro takes a swig out of the bottle to comfort himself.

The main level of the club is packed, wall-to-wall. The bass thuds around them, loud and commanding as a sea of people flood the dance-floor. Shiro thinks he might see a flash of familiar white hair, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. Keith’s got an arm around Shiro’s waist, strong and sure, as he guides them through throngs of people, looking around.

The frenetic energy of the crowd is infectious, and Shiro can see Keith visibly perk up at it. By the time they make it to the middle of the floor, the song playing slips into something slower but equally as heavy, and Shiro’s got no plans to hide the fact that he wants to put his hands all over Keith.

Keith’s facing away from him, squinting at something glittering hanging from the ceiling, and Shiro grabs him by the back of his collar and pulls him till he’s flat against Shiro’s front. Shiro circles his arms around Keith’s waist, almost dropping the bottle, but Keith manages to catch it. Shiro’s unbothered; he focuses instead on nosing Keith’s hair out of the way so that he can kiss Keith’s neck.

The effect is instantaneous. They’re not dancing, but Keith melts against Shiro and tilts his head so that Shiro can move his lips in a trail up Keith’s neck and across his jaw. They meet in the middle, and the anonymity of being lost in a moving crowd is probably what encourages Keith to turn his head just enough so that they can kiss. Shiro moves them, pinning Keith against him and swaying gently. He wonders how soon is too soon to suggest they go back to Shiro’s place for a more private party.

Keith turns on his heel, and suddenly Shiro has even better access to him. Keith breaks apart from Shiro, and winks at him as he lifts up the bottle to drink. Three girls trying to weave their way to a fourth friend accidentally bump into Keith, hard enough to make his eyes widen and the alcohol slosh. He immediately shoots out to steady the bottle, but more people jostle them, and suddenly there’s a gap between Keith and Shiro. Two things happen.

First, someone bumps into Shiro. They pause to give Shiro a once over, and then they lean in to say something low to Shiro. Given that there’s music and yelling and general chaos, Shiro leans into listen and the person takes it as permission to wrap their arms around Shiro’s neck. He belatedly realizes they were asking for a dance, and scans frantically for Keith in the crowd. The person dancing with him’s a foot shorter than him and completely sloshed by the way they swish their hair back and forth, so Shiro’s not going to immediately pry them off.

He guides them, barely moving as he turns on the spot, trying to find Keith. The person goes easily, trying to grind on Shiro, but Shiro steadies them by their hips. It’s then that the second thing happens. Shiro catches sight of Keith, who’s looking slightly terrified, bottle in hand as three other people surround him, chattering eagerly. Drunk and determined to get free booze, they’re not registering the look of discomfort on Keith’s face.

Keith looks up, and for a brief second his eyes meet Shiro’s and Shiro can clearly see a cry for help before Keith’s gaze visibly registers the person dancing with Shiro. Something funny crosses Keith’s face before he turns his attention back to the people who are trying to chat him up. Shiro’s perplexed for a moment, before he sees Keith smile at one of them.

He immediately lets go of the person who’s been trying to dance with him, and doesn’t stay to find out their reaction. Shiro normally has a handle on himself and he trusts Keith, but there’s something about the hand resting on Keith’s elbow that makes Shiro weave through the crowd with intent. They’re just people trying to get free shots from the guy with the bottle, but little flecks of possessiveness are making themselves known to Shiro.

“Hey,” He calls out to Keith but Keith misses it as someone from the small group leans in to tell him something. Shiro’s a straightforward man, so he circles the group to sneak up on Keith from the back.

It works, and he feels Keith jump a little once Shiro loops an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey,” He repeats, louder. He grins toothily at Keith, then at the one person who had been making genuine eyes at Keith from what Shiro had observed. “How’s it going?”

Everyone else looks a little nervous, except for Keith, whose expression Shiro can’t quite gauge. It almost looks satisfied, but the lights are too low at the moment for Shiro to tell. For good measure, Shiro lands a large wet kiss against the corner of Keith’s mouth, and he thinks that should get the point across. He shifts and runs a palm down Keith’s back, but it still doesn’t soothe Shiro like it should. His hand slides under Keith’s jacket, under his shirt till it’s touching bare skin, and he scrapes his fingers gently over it.

“You okay, big guy?” Keith mouths more than asks, and Shiro shrugs before skating his hand further up. Keith’s friends of the moment have realized they’re not getting anything from Keith, and one person’s eyes twitch like they’re going to make one more valiant attempt. Shiro shifts his hand so that one of his arms is wrapped around Keith’s waist, and he squeezes Keith close till Keith’s turning on his heel to come face to face with Shiro, the bottle in between them.

“Just wanted to dance with you,” Shiro replies, and Keith laughs.

“We don’t know how to dance,” Keith informs him, as Shiro slides his other arm around Keith.

“Mm,” Shiro says, and catches the small group of people still looking. He has a brainwave, and plucks the scotch out of Keith’s hands. “You wanted to be here.”

“Shiro–” Keith starts, but Shiro lifts up the bottle and takes a last few swigs before he leans forward and offers it up to their audience.

They stand there wide-eyed and uncertain, so Shiro shoves the bottle into the hands of one of them. Predictably, they grab it immediately.

“It’s yours,” He calls out, and they still look at him like they’re trying to process what’s happened. They’ve got the bottle now though, so Shiro redirects his attention to something better.

“They’ll leave you alone,” He tells Keith, and Keith looks confused so Shiro thinks the best way to explain will be if he kisses Keith.

He pulls Keith in, and despite everything, despite his reticence at the beginning,Keith opens up so, _so_ well for Shiro. Shiro moves his lips against Keith’s to the tempo of the slow, heavy music that rolls around them. He still wants to take Keith home so that he can take off his clothes, but Shiro settles into the moment. For now, it’s enough to have Keith against him, pressed closer by the bodies shuffling around them.

Keith’s handsome in a way Shiro can understand but can’t comprehend and  Shiro can’t blame anyone who flocks to him, whether he has alcohol or not. A new song fades in, and there’s a light bell in it that rings through Shiro’s ears like stardust. It reminds him of Keith and makes him kiss him fiercer, to the point where it becomes bruising. Shiro hopes that anyone else who’s got plans for Keith sees it.

He squeezes Keith and lifts him up to his toes, steadying him as much as he can. Their tongues slick against each other as they teeter, and Shiro thinks there’ll be more stability if Keith’s toes aren’t touching the ground at all, so he shifts his hands down to grab at Keith’s ass and lift.

Keith pulls back gasping as soon as his feet leave the ground, and Shiro grimaces a little. Yeah, he might have overdone it a little, but Keith’s eyes are dark and wanting as he looks at him. Shiro thinks. He’s realizing that facial expressions may be a little hard to read in a dimly lit club.

“I think we need to sober you up,” Keith yells over the din, and Shiro spins them around. It’s a bad idea, and he gets dizzy really fast and has to set Keith down.

“I’m fine,” He says back, but Keith shakes his head. “What?”

Keith’s adamant about it, and Shiro finds himself being herded off the dance floor. He complains loudly as he follows Keith, less because he’s upset and more because he likes how Keith reacts to it. Keith looks determined as he pulls Shiro by the elbow towards the stairs leading up to the lounges.

They stumble towards the door to Shiro’s lounge, and the bouncer stationed at the front opens the door for them.

“Don’t let anyone in for thirty minutes,” Keith tells the bouncer, and the large man nods. “Absolutely no one, okay? He needs to sober up.”

“Forty five,” Shiro amends, and Keith rolls his eyes as the bouncer nods again. He thanks the bouncer before tugging Shiro into the room by the collar, and Shiro swears he hears Keith whispering _better make it an hour_ and the amount of self-satisfaction that Shiro feels is unparalleled.

As soon as the door closes, Shiro’s rushing Keith up against it, trying to grab at as much Keith’s body as possible. Keith’s saying something and he doesn’t want to interrupt, so Shiro decides to attack his neck instead, placing sloppy kisses across his throat. He feels palms flat against his chest, feels Keith swallow, and finds himself getting pushed off Keith and towards the sofa. The back of his legs hit cushion, and Keith shoves him down.

Not wanting to go alone, Shiro grabs Keith by the wrist and pulls him down onto his lap. There's something Shiro _really_ likes about this new arrangement, and he makes it known by going in for the kill and sliding a hand past the waistband of Keith's pants. Keith makes a noise as Shiro squeezes his ass, digging prosthetic fingers into the warm skin, and Keith falls forward to kiss Shiro.

Shiro doesn’t know if Keith running a tongue over his bottom lip before pushing in is part of Keith’s plan to sober him up, but he’s good with it either ways. He can taste the liquor and faint traces of ash and he kisses Keith like they still have an audience. His other hand slides up under Keith’s jacket and shirt, and Shiro basks in how good Keith feels under his clothes. He’s not paying attention to the music at all but he still feels a beat thud in his ears. It’s highly possible that it’s his heart that he’s hearing, because Shiro's falling deeper and deeper into the moment and wants to stretch it out for as long as possible.

He barely notices the fact that Keith's been unbuttoning his shirt with strangely nimble fingers until Keith's halfway down his shirt. He pauses, breaking off their kiss to look down between them as Keith frees another button.

“Bold,” Shiro comments and raises an eyebrow, and he thinks Keith flushes. The light in the room has shifted to a deep blue, and Shiro's not focused enough to tell.

“Shut up,” Keith replies, and starts yanking at Shiro's shirt. The last two buttons pop off, and Shiro thinks Keith's gonna wanna take the whole thing off, but Keith bunches the shirt to his sides jabs Shiro’s bare chest with a finger.

“Stay here,” he says, and Shiro gives him a lazy salute. Shiro makes a noise of complaint when Keith shuffles off of him, but Keith placates him with another brief kiss before turning away. Shiro tips his head back and closes his eyes, listening to Keith move around the room and not really thinking of anything but the taste of scotch on his lips and the feeling of Keith in his arms.

There’s weight back in his lap, and when Shiro opens his eyes, Keith’s straddling him on the couch again. He’s got a glass in each hand, one filled with water and the other filled to the brim with ice cubes.

“Have this first,” Keith raises the water to Shiro's lips. Shiro obediently drinks it, and the cold immediately starts to lift the fuzz in his brain. “It’ll sober you up.”

“Yeah?” Shiro takes a moment to study Keith when the glass is gone, and watches as Keith’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “How so? “

“You'll see,” Keith says, and he seems very sure of himself. He moves in a way that speaks to it, at the least. Keith finishes the water before nestling the glass within the cushion. He hands Shiro the glass with ice and shuffles out of his jacket. He’s left in his white undershirt, and pieces of his hair are falling out of his ponytail, loosely framing his face. Shiro’s not sure if he’s ever going to get over the wanting look Keith’s giving him right now.

Keith doesn’t take the glass back, but he plucks an ice cube out of it. He drops the ice gently in the dip of Shiro’s collarbone, and the cold immediately bites him. Shiro hisses and digs the fingers of his free hand into Keith’s thighs, but Keith speaks low and encouraging words as he rests a hand in the centre of Shiro’s chest. Shiro gets a kiss on the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth before Keith’s face turns soft and questioning.

“Okay?” Keith asks, hand hovering over where Shiro’s heart threatens to beat out of, and Shiro nods. The cold is strange, but it’s waking Shiro up and it’s becoming easier for him to drink in the moment. Keith presses the ice down with his index finger and starts to trail it slowly down Shiro’s sternum.  He lets go of it, giving it a little push, and it slides down Shiro’s belly button before it catches. Keith leaves it there and leans forward to kiss Shiro’s collar bone, sucking on the skin a little.

“Sober up,” Keith's voice vibrates against Shiro, low and seductive. “And I'll give you a reward.”

“Reward?” Shiro asks, and he gets knocked breathless at the way Keith looks up at him with a crooked smile. He plucks the glass out of Shiro’s hand, and pulls it towards his mouth. He gives the synthetic tips of his fingers a short kitten lick before biting down on them, smiling around them. Shiro decides to be a little greedy and push them in further. Keith allows him and takes Shiro’s index and middle finger down to the second knuckle and swirls his tongue around them. He sucks on them, and lets out a small moan purely for show. But he doesn’t let Shiro go any further, and pulls off with an exaggerated pop when he’s had his fill.

“ _If_ you sober up,” Keith says, and gives the glass back to Shiro. He guides Shiro’s arms till they’re resting on the back of the couch.

“You touch me and we start over,” Keith says firmly. “I’m serious.”

“Yes sir,” He says, and Keith rolls his eyes before he adjusts himself on Shiro’s lap with the determined face of a man on a mission.

Keith reaches to the side and picks up another piece of ice. Shiro follows it with his eyes as Keith drops it on Shiro and retraces the same path as before. It’s less surprising now, but Shiro’s skin still raises into goosebumps as the ice cube joins the other one on his midsection. Shiro can’t touch Keith, but he can shift his hips slightly to bump up against Keith. Keith looks more sure now that he knows Shiro likes what he’s doing and becomes bolder on the third try.

This time, he starts at Shiro’s throat, tracing over Shiro’s Adam’s apple. Shiro swallows, moving against it, and Keith follows the ice with his lips. He places barely-there kisses, warm against the cold path of icy water and the sensation is foreign but incredibly delicious. Keith takes his time, licking up whatever water there is. He trails his tongue back up Shiro’s chest, ending with a short peck against Shiro’s chin, and Shiro’s using up all his self control to not touch Keith.

The next piece of ice makes its way across the expanse of Shiro’s chest, and he shudders when Keith slides it over where he knows Shiro’s sensitive. Shiro lets out a short groan as the cold shoots sparks through him, and Keith angles him so that he can dip his head down. He bites the cube gently between his teeth, and uses his mouth to guide it over Shiro’s chest, over and over again on one side as he lays his palm flat against the other side and thumbs over Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro says without purpose, because in the next moment, Keith lets the ice cube drop off to the side but traces the same shapes on Shiro’s chest with his mouth.

Keith hums against the skin, and it’s sensitive enough that the feel of it causes Shiro to involuntarily roll his hips. It knocks Keith upwards but Keith goes with it and meets him in a kiss. Shiro's half hard already, groaning when Keith shifts and creates some friction as he deepens the kiss. Keith's mouth is wet and cold against his, and he pulls back too soon.

“I'm sober,” Shiro blurts out in lieu of begging. Keith cocks an eyebrow and Shiro’s got the not-so-sudden urge to grab Keith’s hips and grind him down against his lap till he’s not looking so smug anymore. But Shiro knows that if he holds out and lets Keith run the show a little longer, it’ll be more than worth it.

“You look good tonight,” Keith says. His eyes rake over Shiro, and licks his lips before retrieving more ice from the glass Shiro’s still dutifully holding.

“You too,” Shiro angles his head in hopes for a kiss, but Keith ducks out of the way. “It looked like a lot of people appreciated it.”

“Were you jealous?” Keith asks, and puts an ice cube between his teeth. Shiro knows he should probably shake his head, lie and say no, but he holds Keith’s gaze. The look he gets back burns through his core.

Keith starts at the base of Shiro's neck. It’s achingly slow and deliberate, Keith in no hurry as he moves. The music around them is slow, and the bass rumbles while Shiro feels himself coming undone under Keith’s mouth. Instead of letting go off the ice when he reaches Shiro’s ribs, Keith swings a leg in between Shiro’s thigh and starts sliding downwards, onto the floor, onto his knees.

There's a pool of wetness thats accumulated on Shiro's stomach from the cubes that have already melted, and Keith swipes at it as he trails the ice down, never letting it leave his mouth. His bangs tickle Shiro's skin, and he pushes at Shiro's legs to part them further. The light of the room bleeds into a deep red as Keith brings the ice lower, settling it on top of Shiro’s lower abdomen. Shiro feels more than sees Keith’s tongue as it flattens out and presses the melting ice around as it shrinks.

Keith's hands settle in between Shiro's thighs, and start to rub firm circles into them. One hand slips forward a little to squeeze at the junction of Shiro’s thigh, before reaching up to idly unbuckle Shiro’s belt. Keith leans forward and nips at the button of Shiro’s pants, and looks up at Shiro.

“You can touch me now,” Keith says, and Shiro immediately moves to cup the back of Keith's head.

He fiddles with the ponytail, tugging it a little, and Keith shakes his head so Shiro stops and shifts his hand. He cups Keith's chin and tilts it up so that he can see Keith eye-to-eye. Keith's eyes are half lidded but glimmer with intent under the ever-shifting lights. He's grinning at Shiro, and he licks his lips when Shiro looks at him for what is probably longer than necessary.

“You don't strike me as the type to do this,” Shiro says, for lack of anything better, and Keith grins wider.

“I'm not,” Keith’s dangerously close to the hemline of Shiro’s trousers. He leans forward and kisses, and looks up at him with an innocent look. “Only for you.”

“Only for me?” Shiro asks, running a hand through Keith's hair. He presses his fingers, gently massaging Keith's scalp, and Keith closes his eyes and hums. Shiro can feel the vibration of it around his skin, and tightens his hold before suddenly pulling Keith up by his hair. “How?”

Keith doesn't answer, but smiles lopsided and fiddles with the button of Shiro’s pants. He leans down, and looks at Shiro through his lashes as he bites the zipper and pulls down. He tugs on Shiro's pants, pulling them down just enough. He paws at Shiro and presses the heel of his hand in a way that has Shiro's hips jerking up. Keith kisses him lightly over the cloth of his boxers, and Shiro has to fight hard against the urge to start directing Keith so that he can get some relief. Keith can tell, because he stills and looks up at Shiro.

“I don’t think we have much time left,” Shiro tries, feeling a little desperate. Keith maintains eye contact with him as he tugs at Shiro’s boxers with no hurry. Shiro’s fully hard, and when he’s finally freed, Keith licks the tip tentatively. The contact is enough to make Shiro’s fingers curl tighter in Keith's hair.

“I think we have enough time,” Keith says, his lips brushing against where Shiro’s growing wet. He sticks his tongue out again, shifts the way he holds Shiro in his hand, and runs a teasing trail down the length till the base and back up. It’s feather light and driving Shiro crazy.

He’s about to give in and outright beg when Keith sucks on the head with a little more force, but whatever Shiro has to say gets garbled on its way out because Keith’s jaw goes slack and he takes Shiro in _deep_.

Shiro swears out loud, and feels Keith laugh around him. The rumble and hum of it as Keith hollows his cheeks and draws up slowly, makes Shiro’s eyes roll back. Keith wraps a hand around him and strokes him before covering the rest with his mouth. He bobs before moving his hand and sinking down all the way again.

He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt Keith, so Shiro clenches a fist and bites his knuckles. It does nothing to ease the fact that Keith’s taking him until he hits the back of his throat, works him like he’s got no gag reflex. Keith’s gone down on him before, but it’s always been slow and languid and in the privacy of one of their apartments. The sound of the music reminds Shiro that they’re in a club, but the way the light washing over Keith’s face turns purple makes him not care.

Keith moves to grab at Shiro’s ass, digging his fingers in and pushing Shiro up deep. Shiro ends up following too enthusiastically, and Keith makes a noise but tries to take it enthusiastically anyways. It looks like it’s too much though, and Shiro stops to pull Keith off of him. Keith gives him a genuine frown, and licks at the wetness on his lower lip.

“What?” He says abruptly. Shiro tries to step on the way he sparks at Keith’s petulant tone, but it doesn’t work. “C’mon Shiro, give me more.”

“More?” Shiro asks, his voice a lot more breathless than he expects. Keith shuffles on his knees so he’s closer to the couch, and takes Shiro in hand again.

“Jesus,” Shiro breathes, as Keith takes in only the head. He sucks hard, swirls his tongue, and looks up at Shiro with a challenge in his eyes.

“Give me more,” Keith squeezes Shiro, and he makes sure that Shiro can feel the tremor of his words as he speaks. “Otherwise I'm not gonna go any further.”

Shiro hears a thud against the door and remembers that they don't have as much time left; the bouncers outside are a little too good and will start letting their friends back in when they've crossed the forty-five minute mark.

“Okay,” Shiro breathes, and lets go of Keith. He grips the edge of the cushion he’s sitting on, hopes that’ll be enough to control himself, and starts moving.

Shiro begins slow, like he does when he's fucking Keith. He gives short, rolling thrusts, and Keith replies with a pleased groan. Keith’s hands fall to the side of Shiro’s legs and grips the edge of the sofa to anchor himself. Shiro feels Keith going loose around him, so he goes deeper, revelling in the heat as he slides in and out of Keith's mouth. Keith seems to give a grunt everytime Shiro gives a particular hard thrust, and Shiro thinks he's doing something wrong till he sees one of Keith’s hands creeping down to his own lap.

The way Keith moans around Shiro shortly after sends Shiro's world tilting, and he loses a bit of control. He starts to rock into Keith's mouth hard and fast, trying to go as deep as possible. Keith's making sounds, pleased sounds that muffle themselves against skin and Shiro can't resist the urge anymore to grab Keith by the hair and hold him still.

He fucks up into Keith's mouth, and Keith takes and takes and takes. Shiro has to bite his lip to keep quiet, but it's a Goliath task in the face of Keith going down on him like a starving man. Shiro can feel the coil in his gut tightening, can feel his thighs start to quiver. He wants to stretch this moment out too for more selfish reasons, because seeing Keith on his knees like this makes Shiro feels like he’s on top of the world.

Shiro opens his mouth, about to tell Keith that he wants to come, but Keith tilts his head and Shiro catches light glistening off the corners of Keith’s eyes. They’re grown wet, and even though Keith’s not signalled Shiro to stop, even though he’s still making noises around Shiro, Shiro comes to an immediate halt.

“Shit,” he swears, and pulls Keith up gently by the hair, panicking slightly. He tries to pull Keith up on to his lap, but Keith wrestles out of his grip. Shiro lets him go easily.  “Fuck, Keith, I didn't mean, are you ok—”

Keith slides back down, and tries to take Shiro in his mouth again.  Shiro stops him with a hand in his hair again, and Keith makes a disapproving sound.

“Why did you stop?” Keith rasps, panting. The warm air gusts over Shiro, and it entices him, but he thumbs the corner of Keith's eye with his other hand, rubbing some of the wetness away.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Shiro says, but Keith's already frowning at him and straining, trying to get his mouth around Shiro again.

Automatically, Shiro tightens his grip and keeps it steady so that Keith is barely able to touch Shiro. He feels hands smack the side of his thighs before they start to claw at them. Keith looks up with immeasurable desperation in his eyes, blinking away whatever tears had formed.

“Keith–” Shiro starts, but Keith interrupts him.

“You’re not hurting me,” Keith insists, and he’s got a bite to his tone that pulls at the hunger in Shiro. “I like it, Shiro. I want it.”

Shiro’s knees go weak at the way Keith’s voice begs, raw from how Shiro moved in his mouth. Keith gets needy when they’re in bed, but it’s not been like this before. Maybe it’s because they’re kind of in public, and have only a certain amount of time before their friends will come barging in.

“Shiro, come on,” Keith’s voice drips with desperation and urgency that’s completely irresistible. “I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“You already are,” Shiro replies gently. He can’t think about it any longer, because Keith’s ready and pleading and looks like Shiro denying him will break him, and eases up on his grip.

Keith takes what little Shiro's given him and uses it to sink down on Shiro to the hilt. Shiro tips his head back and closes his eyes as he draws Keith off before pushing into him again. He bites back a moan as he feels more than heard the noise Keith makes around him.

“Is this what you want?” Shiro asks, his voice rough and low. “Want me to give it to you?”

Keith gives the barest of nods but the loudest of appreciative groans. It’s the most noise he’s ever heard from Keith when they’ve messed around, and it spurs Shiro on. Keith wants this, and Shiro’s not going to be one to deny him.

“Tap me if you want me to stop,” Shiro says, and Keith’s got to stop making sounds when he’s got Shiro in his mouth otherwise Shiro’s going to embarrass himself real quick.  

Keith feels so good around him, and it doesn’t take long for Shiro to fall back into their previous rhythm. He holds Keith still by the head again and fucks into his mouth, groaning Keith’s name. Keith takes it beautifully, takes what Shiro gives him like he’s made for it, like there’s no other place he’d be.

Shiro’s riled up, and when he sees Keith’s eyes start to water again, it _really_ hits him that this is what Keith has said he wants. Shiro thinks about Keith admitting that he's only ever been this way for Shiro and Shiro— Shiro thinks it would be a waste if he didn't make it worth Keith's time.

He picks up the pace and puts more power into it, driving into Keith’s mouth with intense purpose. One of Keith’s hands disappear to his lap again, and Shiro hears him unzipping his pants. He moves in tandem with Shiro, meeting him halfway sometimes and taking him deeper than he gives it other times, bumping his nose against skin.

Tears form again, and one drips down Keith’s cheek as he digs his fingers into the side of Shiro’s thigh with one hand and jerks himself off with the other. Shiro can see the white of Keith’s eyes before he scrunches them shut, and he’s getting close.

“I’m gonna come,” Shiro grits out. He doesn’t fully release Keith, but he loosens his hold, letting some of Keith’s hair slip through his fingers.

Keith refuses to let up, and sucks in his cheeks. Shiro’s last vestige of self restraint snaps and he comes in Keith's mouth, the corners of his vision blowing out. Keith visibly chokes around it, but bobs and swallows it all with it any hesitation, not letting go till Shiro’s fully spent.

Shiro gently pushes him off when he starts to get sensitive, and he can see some of his come trickle down the front of Keith’s chin. Keith immediately starts to tuck Shiro back in, but looks a little dazed, like he’s slowly slipping out of it. The post-sex haze is thick around them, but not thick enough for Shiro to not be struck with the sudden urge to gather Keith up and take care of him after Keith behaved so well for him.

Shiro grabs Keith by his shoulders and Keith doesn’t protest this time when Shiro hauls him up onto his lap. He follows wherever Shiro pulls, willing and pliant and completely rag-doll in Shiro’s hands. Shiro wants to return the favour, wants to get Keith to stand up on his knees on the sofa, undo his pants and fuck Shiro's mouth, but he can feel a damp patch against his own bare skin and knows Keith’s already finished himself.

“You're so good for me baby,” Shiro murmurs, wiping at Keith’s chin with his thumb. “You're so good _to_ me. I'm gonna give you whatever you want.”

He doesn't give Keith a chance to reply; he pulls him close for a kiss, tasting himself as Keith lets him push his tongue in. Shiro kisses Keith with heady enthusiasm until Keith’s melting against him and they’re coming down from their shared high. It turns softer and softer till Shiro’s just gently pressing his lips against the corner of Keith’s mouth. It’s the opposite of the energy they had at the beginning, but even the slow, barely-there brushes Keith leaves against Shiro’s neck are addictive.

Shiro plucks at the back of Keith’s shirt and lets out a satisfied sigh when they finally break apart. Keith presses his forehead against Shiro’s, and runs a hand down the center of Shiro’s torso. He looks like he’s come back to himself, and his eyes seem clearer and more focused.

“Sober?” Keith asks, and Shiro can’t help the short snort of laughter that escapes him. Keith grins in return before wriggling his eyebrows. “Wanna go back out onto the floor?”

“I want to take you home,” Shiro says honestly, before pausing for a moment. “If that’s not too forward.”

Keith’s the one that laughs this time and shoves at Shiro’s shoulder, calling him lame. He starts to pull Shiro’s shirt together, taking great care to button it up properly. He swats away Shiro’s hand when he tries to help, and straightens out Shiro's collar. Keith’s about to kiss Shiro again, but the door to their lounge swings open. Instantly, Keith’s slid off Shiro, smoothly slotting himself right beside him. Shiro’s sure they’re rumpled and obvious, but their guests are too sloshed to notice.

“Hey guys!” Allura chirps happily. Hunk has her and Lance dangling off an arm each, and is barely able to stay upright himself. “Having fun?”

“Tons,” Keith says, sounding amused as all of them stagger and flop onto the couch in a disorganized pile. Pidge and Lotor aren’t there, but Shiro’s almost too scared to ask where they are.

“Are you going to get a chance to meet them again?” Keith asks Shiro as they watch Lance try to roll onto Hunk as he tells Hunk that he’s the best friend _ever_.

“Yeah,” Shiro replies. “Pidge and Allura are in town for a couple of days and we made plans. Why?”

“Good,” Keith leans over Shiro, keeping an eye on their friends as he does so. He digs his hand into Shiro’s pocket and pulls out his phone, tilting the screen towards Shiro. “Let’s call the car and go home.”

Keith’s not specified whose home exactly, but Shiro takes one look at Keith’s reddened mouth and slightly swollen lips, and unlocks his phone without asking.  

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I've indicated that I've added two new tags that I'm going to make good on, and I'm also going to make good on a couple of tags that have been here since the beginning of the fic. Also I can't believe this chapter pushes this fic into 40k this was legit just supposed to be a 15k thing yet here we are...here we are. Thanks once again for all your support guys it means the world and beyond!!

Shiro’s sitting in a boardroom with his hands folded in front of him. He’s trying his best not to lose his cool as Slav yammers on about how there’s no point in hiring so many interns if none of them can bring a copy of a document quickly. Shiro faintly imagines a group of nervous individuals trying to pawn off the task to each other in the office pen, none of them wanting to come within speaking distance of Slav. It’s what he would do if he was an intern and Shiro thanks whoever’s up there on a daily basis that those days were put behind him fast.

It’s been an atrociously difficult morning that’s been domineered by a meeting at Gamara with Sven and Slav. Shiro has an admiration for their intelligence, sharpness and business savvy but a giant grudge against their delivery of said qualities. Shiro was scheduled for a short meeting and signing with them to solidify the relationship between his company and Gamara. They’ve had the round-table discussion with the lawyers, and this meeting is just for them to talk quickly and put down their signatures.

Or it was, before Slav decided that further elaboration on an already verbose contract was needed. He’s already been here for a little over an hour, and Shiro idly wonders if this is their way of wearing him down to see what he’s worth, because they’re still oddly hung up about working with someone so young. It’s working, albeit minimally, if that’s the case.

Originally, the signing was supposed to take place at Shiro’s office. He had gently suggested that they hold the meeting at Gamara, because they’ve already visited his office multiple times and there are only so many complimentary drinks he can pour before he starts feeling like a bartender. There’s also the odd feeling Shiro gets when he sees his competitors-turned-tenuous-allies get cozy on the same couch he’s laid out one of their interns on. It doesn’t seem to go away, even when he gets his furniture steam-cleaned, so Shiro had opted for a change of scenery.

Coincidentally, said intern ends up being the one to bring a fresh printout of the contract page. Despite hoping he’d run into Keith while he was at Gamara, Shiro does a mental double take when Keith walks through the boardroom doors. Keith’s face does something funny briefly, but he immediately schools his expression into something collected.

Slav has accidentally spilled a mug of too strong coffee over one of the papers of the contact. He had paged someone to bring in a new copy, and Shiro’s headache grew tenfold because he’d have to subtly scan the document to make sure it’s the exact same as the other one, without offending the other party involved. Eight minutes passed before Slav had to page again and ask the receptionist to ask why it was taking so long.  Shiro keeps his face blank as Keith places a stack of files in front of Slav and retreats back to stand against the wall.

If Shiro wasn’t so well-versed in the art of appearing stoic, he’d be giving a half-smile at Keith’s presence. They’ve been so busy for the past two weeks, that they’ve barely been able to see each other aside from Shiro stopping at Keith’s place on the way back from an out-of-town meeting. Shiro’s not a very clingy person, but he’s fallen into something comfortable with Keith that makes him feel generally happier in his presence than away from it.

He’s got a business trip coming up at the beginning of next week, and Keith’s going to come over for the weekend so that they can make up for the lack of physical contact. But seeing Keith in this moment reminds Shiro that the end of the week is too many days away. He’s got twelve hours of almost back-to-back meetings tomorrow that start early in the morning that he still has to prepare for, but Shiro still wants to ask Keith if he wants to come over tonight to relieve some stress.

Shiro’s eyes flit to Keith, who raises his eyebrows minutely in greeting. He stands at attention, waiting for further instruction, and Shiro turns his focus back to Slav. Slav insists on droning over parts of the contract that Shiro’s already memorized verbatim, and Shiro’s trying not to think about how intimately he knows the man Slav directs to bring him and Shiro two pens. It’s hard to do when Keith offers a silver ballpoint to Shiro, and discreetly brushes their fingers together when he hands it over.

Slav insists on clarifying that spilling coffee wasn’t a secret at corporate subterfuge by reading out the page in question. Shiro wants to fling himself out of the window every time he clears his throat in between dictating blocks of text. Keith must be conditioned, because he keeps an excellent poker face and doesn’t yawn once.

Shiro tries to think about something to make the experience more enjoyable; he thinks about a movie he watched recently, thinks about how he can’t recall the ending, remembers that it was because Keith had lost interest in the movie and had taken interest in pressing Shiro down into the beaten couch in Keith’s living room.

He steals a look at at how benign Keith appears in his plain white and black office clothes and when he has to turn back to Slav, he’s already thinking about how Keith would look spread over the conference table. It’s not the train of thought he should be climbing on in a boardroom, and Shiro squarely places the blame on Keith showing up. He recognizes the sleek red tie Keith’s gotten on, knows that it costs a week of Keith’s paycheck because he bought it for Keith a few weekends ago on a whim, and Keith had informed Shiro that he had no clue how to tie a tie and he only wore clip-ons.

Shiro learned that Keith had no intention to learn as well, as he tried to teach him in earnest and Keith was stubbornly horrible at it at every turn. Shiro found it had been more fruitful to wrap it around Keith’s mouth and bunch the ends into one hand, using it as a way to hold Keith steady while he pinned him against a wall and took him. It looks like Keith’s decided he suddenly remembers how to tie a tie, and Shiro’s eternally grateful that he has a phenomenal poker face.

Shiro perks up when he recognizes a phrase Slav’s reading out, recognizing it as the middle of a clause that sits on the bottom of the page. Keith’s still standing there, and Shiro wonders how he can ask them to send Keith out without letting on the fact that he’s a distraction for Shiro.

They _finally_ get to the signing, and Shiro’s headache has not eased up. In fact, it’s multiplied; he’s already running behind schedule because of how much Slav and Sven have kept him, and he knows that he’s in for a late night at the office to catch up. Normally Shiro manages to redirect the conversation where he needs it to go during meetings, but Slav is both stubborn and someone the CEO insists will be an invaluable ally for the company. Shiro tries not to look too relieved once it’s his turn to put down his autograph.

“Excellent,” Slav squares the papers away once Shiro’s managed to scrawl a signature across the line. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. Shiro has to resist squeezing his hands into fists and snapping the pen in his hand. To occupy himself, he reaches for his own copy of the contract. “Can I interest you in lunch?”

Given that Shiro’s ready to fall through the floor, he shakes his head and explains that he has to get back to the office for another pressing meeting. He’s probably going to get Lance to hold his calls while he sits on his couch and stares out one of his floor to ceiling windows for fifteen minutes, head in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other.

“He’ll show you out,” Slav waves in Keith’s general direction, and Keith gives Shiro a cool, professional smile. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“You too,” Shiro manages to force out. He stands up to give Slav a firm handshake, squeezing a little too hard. Slav looks like he wants to comment on it, but he drops it as he sits back down. Shiro nods at him, and makes his way to the door. Keith opens it for him with a “Right this way, sir” in an ineffectual tone.

“Would you like anything to drink before you leave?” Keith asks politely as they walk through the hall towards the elevators. They both stare directly ahead of them, Shiro remaining one step behind.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Shiro replies in an equally placid voice. They get to the elevators, and wait in silence after Keith hits the button. It’s a few seconds before the elevator comes up and when the doors open, Keith dutifully gestures for Shiro to enter first. before he follows in.

As soon as the bell dings and the door closes, Shiro lets go of the rigidity in his posture and sighs. He tilts his head back till it gently lands against the wall. Keith slides his pass over the card reader before hitting the button and standing next to Shiro. Keith leaves no distance between them, but keeps his hands crossed over his front.

“Tough day?” Keith asks, and it soothes Shiro to hear how easily Keith slips back into a more relaxed, personal voice. Shiro feels the brush of fingers against his hand before Keith digs his hand into his pockets.

Maybe it’s because of the stress, but Shiro has the urge to turn and trap Keith against the elevator wall and kiss him till he forgets about a majority of his morning. It’s Keith’s place of work though, so Shiro doesn’t think he’ll be too receptive to anything like that. He turns his head enough to look at Keith, and Keith mirrors him. He’d been acutely aware of him through the entirety of the meeting, and wants to see if he can wrangle out some of Keith’s time.

“Just the regular,” Shiro says. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not at all,” Keith replies and Shiro frowns. “I was in a rush this morning and I haven’t gotten the time yet today.”

“Are you able to go on your lunch break?” Shiro asks, and Keith just raises an eyebrow before looking straight ahead.  “Do you want to get something?”

Keith makes a non-committal noise, and the elevator bell dings. Shiro doesn’t blame him for not jumping at the opportunity; they’re in a precarious position, and though they’re generally smart and careful when they go out, the discomfort of going out on work hours might too much for Keith. Shiro follows out, trying to remember what the best street food in the area is, because he’s determined to at least grab something quick and maybe steal a kiss before Keith sends him off.

“Come on,” Keith says, and steps out. “My break’s not that long.”

It’s not till the door closes and the elevator’s gone that Shiro stops openly staring at the back of Keith’s shoulders and realizes they’re not in the lobby. Keith walks fast and with purpose and Shiro stares for a moment before starting off after him.  Keith’s brisk, looking over his shoulder, even though the floor looks completely abandoned. Parts of it appear to be under construction, with doorless rooms, empty vending machines, and windows without glass.

Shiro wants to ask where exactly they’re headed, but the answer makes itself known fast when Keith leads Shiro down a smaller empty hallway. At the end of the hall, there’s a fire exit and a giant sign pointing to the janitorial closet on the right. Keith opens the door, and as soon as Shiro catches up, he finds himself getting pulled in. Keith closes the door and clicks the lock behind him and before Shiro can ask what he’s doing, he finds his arms suddenly full.

Speaking’s a futile attempt because Keith captures Shiro in a hard, searing kiss. It’s an automatic reaction for Shiro to wrap his arms around Keith and pull him closer as he opens up his mouth. Shiro’s not even thinking about the fact that they’re in a closet; not yet, anyways. It’s been a long day, and before Shiro can direct any questions towards Keith, he wants to take a little from him.

He’s still tense and his neck feels stiff, but Shiro can feel his headache dissipating. He allows himself a few seconds of this, allows Keith to paw at him and grab his collar before he pulls back and tries to put a little distance between them.  It doesn’t work too well, because Keith’s pressed up him again before he can start speaking.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and Keith responds by nipping lightly at his jaw before kissing it. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Keith pecks Shiro quickly on the lips. “Can’t seem stop.”

Shiro’s about to ask why they’re here, but realizes it’s kind of obvious when Keith starts pushing his suit jacket off of his shoulders. He lets it drop to the ground, and Keith’s hands immediately gravitate towards his shirt. He starts unbuttoning it, and makes it down halfway before Shiro grabs his wrist.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks, trying to look stern. He knows he’s not doing a great job of it, knows that as soon as Keith puts his hands on Shiro, Shiro’s face instantly starts giving away its desire. “We’re at your workplace.”

“You don’t say,” Keith says, his hand sliding in through the fabric, pinching Shiro through his undershirt. Shiro inhales sharply, and Keith looks smug. “I didn’t notice.”

“Someone’s going to catch us,” Shiro tries, and Keith laughs.

“No one’s come down this floor for four mouths,” Keith says, ducking his head to pull at Shiro’s undershirt and mouth at his sternum. Shiro can hear the seams tear as Keith yanks at the cloth impatiently to get to more of Shiro’s skin. “No one’s gonna be here for two more. It’s under construction.”

Shiro _could_ play stupid, could play good and tell Keith that it’s a horrible idea, because it is. Shiro’s the boss, but he’s still on company time. The meeting he attended has already put him way behind schedule, and he can’t afford to waste any more time having a tryst in a storage closet with an intern.

Keith flattens his tongue against his chest and it’s messy, like they’re two teens trying to get some in between third and fourth period. He bites and sucks and leaves a nice mark over Shiro’s heart. Shiro threads his fingers through Keith’s hair to pull him off, and Keith gives him a look that’s absolutely wicked. Shiro mentally reasons with himself that at least the intern doesn’t belong to him, and pulls Keith into a demanding kiss.

Shiro wants to get on his knees, wants Keith heavy and eager in his mouth before he gets Keith to hold his head still as he returns the favour. As it goes, Keith wants Shiro in him, and has had supplies stored in his desk for a while now. Keith’s idea seems infinitely better to Shiro.

“How long were you thinking about this?” Shiro asks in a low voice; he’s got Keith pinned against shelves while he stretches him open. Keith’s pants are sliding down his thighs, and he gives half a smile before he scrunches his eyes shut and hisses Shiro’s name. He tries to shove Shiro’s shirt further off of him, but his hands stop midway to squeeze Shiro’s biceps as Shiro twists and hooks his fingers.

“I knew you’d come around here eventually,” Keith whispers, voice cracking as he holds back a moan. “Just a matter of when. Today was a nice surprise though.”

They don’t have much time, but Shiro still takes his when he turns Keith over and eases into him. The familiar heat and tightness opens up the hunger that’s slowly become intrinsic to Shiro. Keith’s eager, rocking back on him, and Shiro feels reckless. He digs his fingers in his hips and focuses on moving slow but with intent, trying to find a balance between letting Keith adjust and taking what he wants.

“Shir- _oh_ **,”** Keith’s not loud to begin with, but the strain in Keith’s voice is evident as he fails to be completely silent. Shiro watches as his next thrust jolts Keith upwards again, and Keith clings onto the storage shelf. “Yeah, there, oh, _oh_ —“

“Shh,” Shiro whispers, even though this floor is more or less abandoned. Keith's hands tighten further against steel, causing forgotten cleaning supplies to rattle gently while Shiro moves slow and hard.

Keith’s knuckles are going white, and Shiro leans forward to bury his face in Keith’s hair. He presses kisses along the nape of Keith’s neck, before reaching a hand forward and cupping Keith’s chin, turning it so that he can kiss Keith. Even though Shiro’s head is already swimming with lust, seeing the small lopsided smile Keith’s got on under the dim light knocks the air out of him.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Shiro says, shifting his other hand under Keith’s shirt, rucking it up so that he can draw light circles across his lower abdomen. The skin is warm and smooth under his palm, and he moves his fingers lower.

“Mm,” Keith’s eyes are at half-mast as Shiro reaches down and circles him. “I am.”

Shiro gives Keith a languid kiss as he rocks into him. He's still coherent enough to be slightly paranoid about them getting caught, but there's a small part of him that curls in how enticing the whole thing his. Shiro's doing this because he likes Keith and he wants Keith, but he also likes the idea that he's got one of the star interns at his rival company in a supply closet on _their_ turf, pressed against a shelf and panting as he fucks him enough to shift him up onto his toes.

But they can't be here for too long, otherwise someone's going to come looking. So Shiro flattens himself against Keith's back and starts tugging at him earnestly as he speeds up his pace.

Keith chants a quiet _yes yes yes_ under his breath, and this is the one time Shiro's glad that Keith's naturally quiet. When he comes, he muffles Keith's name into his neck, and Keith follows shortly after, spilling all over his hand. They remain there for a moment, trying to catch their breath. Shiro cups one of Keith's hands with his own, and pries it off the shelf so that he can kiss the knuckles.

Cleaning up isn't as hard as Shiro thought it would be, once they've tucked themselves back in. Keith finds a roll of paper towel for them to wipe themselves up with, and Shiro tries to straighten Keith’s shirt for him.

“Stop,” Keith swats Shiro’s hands away before doing up his own buttons. “You’re doing them wonky.”

Shiro drops his hands to let Keith do whatever he wants. He watches Keith work, and has a sudden moment of clarity. Shiro turns a little red— turns _very_ red once it fully settles in what they’ve done. Keith catches it and laughs, before leaning in. He starts buttoning up Shiro’s shirt for him and whatever Shiro tries to say gets lost on his lips as Keith kisses him.  He lets Keith fix his clothes, and Keith breaks off to inspect his handiwork.

“You look better now,” He says, smoothing his hand over Shiro’s shirt while Shiro re-knots his tie. “You looked tense before.”

He bends down to pick up Shiro’s suit jacket and presents it to him. Shiro takes it gingerly and folds it over one arm, holding it in front of him. Keith passes him his briefcase as well, and looks too much like the cat that’s got the canary.

“Let me take you to lunch,” Shiro says, and Keith shakes his head and checks his phone.

“That was my lunch,” He says. “I’ve got five minutes to clean up and get back to work before someone starts chewing my head off.”

“You didn’t eat,” Shiro points out, and Keith shrugs as he pushes past him to unlock the door.

“I’ll get something from the vending machine,” he replies, and just as he’s about to step out, Shiro catches him by the elbow. He raises an eyebrow, and Shiro pulls him in again. He catches Keith’s question in a kiss, and lets out a pleased hum when Keith lets him lick into his mouth.

“I told you,” Keith says when they break apart, staring at Shiro’s mouth. “Only got five minutes.”

“Let me get you something small,” Shiro says, and Keith rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Come over tonight?”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith says, reaching forward to adjust Shiro’s tie. He gives a wink before he slips out of the closet, and Shiro clears his throat and coughs, despite being alone in the closet.

 

* * *

 

The business trip has Shiro flying to the opposite coast for ten days. He’s three hours ahead and Keith’s work has picked up tenfold, so it’s hard for them to sneak in more than a five-minute conversation during the first few days. Shiro tries calling Keith when he retires to his hotel for the night, but he’s dozing off after a day of meetings topped by a late dinner with a potential client, and Keith tells him to get sleep and to call him in the morning. Keith’s also tired, moreso than usual, his voice more and more muted with each call. Shiro doesn’t miss the days of working corporate internships that would run him ragged, and he doesn’t blame Keith for dozing off in the middle of the later calls. 

They manage to get some time in the morning of the fifth day, when Shiro’s got a somewhat later start to the day. He’s working through his short morning routine, one that gets him physically ready for the day, and midway through his fiftieth pushup, he decides it’d be a lot more fun if he could do this while looking at Keith.

He video calls Keith, feeling a little guilty that it’s four in the morning but more keen on hopefully getting a chance to talk to him for more than a few minutes. Keith picks up on the tenth ring, making a face as he turns up the brightness.

 _“Shiro_?” His voice is raspy, heavy with sleep, and his eyes aren’t fully open yet. 

“Sorry,” Shiro apologizes off the bat, and Keith gives a tired smile. “I know it’s a weird time, but I was up early and I thought I’d call.”

 _“It’s okay_ ,” Keith replies, and tilts the screen sideways.  _“What are you up to?”_

Shiro props the phone up against the foot of the cabinet he’s in front of so that he can look at Keith while he lays out flat on the floor again and moves his arms to the side. He pushes up, and Keith gives him a weak wolf whistle.                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 _“Is this why you called me?”_ Keith yawns, rubbing the sleep from one of his eyes. _“Want me to spot you from across the country?”_  

“Just wanted to talk,” Shiro huffs out in between pushups and Keith laughs.

 _“So you just wanted to show off_?” He asks, but Shiro catches glimpses of how intently Keith’s watching. Shiro puts his right hand behind his back and looks directly at the screen as he starts another set of pushups. 

The burn starts to set into Shiro’s arms, and he makes sure he goes as low as possible to give Keith a good show. He slowly rises up, part so that he can keep his arms in fighting shape and part so that he can hear the soft sigh Keith lets out.  He sneaks a glance at the screen to see that Keith’s brought his phone closer to his face, and he winks at Keith. Keith tries to put on an unaffected face, but his eyebrows twitch. Shiro finishes his last set, and Keith asks him to do one more for good luck.

They chat as Shiro gets ready for the day, Keith talkative but barely able to keep his eyes open. Shiro brushes, and Keith tells Shiro about how he’s been bombarded with work at the office because his coworkers are nowhere near as competent as they should be. Shiro drops his pants and his shirt, and Keith wags his tongue like an over-enthusiastic dog. As a punishment, Shiro leaves the phone on the towel rack when he turns on the shower, and Keith finds the energy to protest loudly while he rinses off.

 _“What’s the point of buying a waterproof phone_?” Shiro can hear Keith’s tinny grumble over the phone, and Keith refuses to talk about anything else other than the sight he’s missing out on. Shiro steps out, wraps a towel around his waist, and wipes off the condensation from the screen so that Keith can see his face better.

 _“Show me your whole body,”_ Keith tries to sound husky and demanding, but he sounds more inebriated than anything. Shiro rolls his eyes but indulges Keith anyways and holds the phone at arm’s length. Keith gives a wolf whistle, albeit a weak one.

“I’ll have to fly back here next month,” Shiro says, taking the phone into the bedroom again. “Just for a weekend though.”

 _“Yeah?”_ Keith asks, and Shiro sets him on top of the dresser, standing him up against a mirror so that he can see Keith while he changes into his work clothes. Shiro slides his underwear on underneath his towel, and Keith reminds Shiro that he’s no fun at all.

“For my arm,” Shiro explains. “I have to get it upgraded and take away anything that’s—that’s, uh, a potentially unauthorized safety hazard.”

 _“No more lighting cigars?”_ Keith teases, and Shiro flushes a little at the memory.

“Allura said something about making it more sensitive to the touch,” Shiro says, and Keith hums in interest. “She said she’ll give me more details closer to the day.”

It’s a perfect opportunity for Shiro to invite Keith along with him. It’s on the tip of his tongue, and he knows that he wants Keith there. He’s just not had anyone aside from a personal assistant come with him for years, with the exception of his grandfather when he first got his arm. But it feels like a big step, something intimate that he can’t just ask over a video call. The invitation doesn’t come out of his mouth; instead, Shiro drops his towel and starts to put on his suit. 

He pulls his pants on and Keith tries to get him to turn around. Shiro refuses, but does it anyways as he loops in his belt. Shiro turns back before he buttons or buckles anything, and slides on his undershirt. He takes his time, making sure he flexes _just_ enough for it to count. Keith makes an approving noise when Shiro slides on his dress shirt. 

He makes another noise when Shiro starts to do it up. Then another.

Which is followed by another one, one that’s a little louder, and Shiro bends down to take a good look at his screen as he buttons the cuffs of his shirt. He stutters and blinks when he sees that Keith’s propped his phone up against something nearby so that he can crawl one hand up his shirt and shove the other hand into his boxers. It’s unexpected enough for a whole moment to pass before Shiro registers what’s happening.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and Keith shifts and strokes himself lazily under his boxers before replying.

 _“You’ve given me a lot to work with,”_ Keith says, and this time the huskiness in his voice is genuine this time. _“You should do this tomorrow morning too.”_

“Keith,” Shiro scolds, and Keith shoots him a sleepy grin.

 _“Want a better view?”_ He asks, and god, Shiro does, but the work phone on his bed has already started buzzing with the day’s emails and reminders for the meeting he has in about twenty minutes. He doesn’t know if he wants to curse Keith for being this distracting, or himself for taking so long to get ready. He decides on the latter, and picks up the phone.

“Keith, no—“ Keith’s taken it as a sign to start slowly pulling at his boxers. “Stop.”

 _“I can hang up if you don’t want to see,”_ Keith says sweetly. _“Take care of things myself.”_

Shiro bites his lip while Keith slides his underwear further down, revealing skin that Shiro knows to be soft and probably sleep-warm. He can feel his mouth start to go dry when Keith properly takes a hold of himself and thumbs the head, letting out a long exhale. Shiro watches Keith give himself long, languid pulls. Shiro’s name spills soft out of his mouth as he tilts his head and closes his eyes, just as Shiro’s phone pings again with a reminder.

Shiro swears under his breath. As much as he really, really wants to watch Keith while he has his own hand wrapped around him, he’s got no time to do it.

“Hey,” He says, a little loudly. “Keith, listen to me.”

 _“Yes sir?”_ Keith’s tone is casual, breathless and still laced with drowsiness as he doesn’t bother stopping. Shiro’s brain goes a little fuzzy, but then the fifteen-minute alarm on his phone goes off. He heaves the world’s most long-suffering internal sigh before speaking.

“I have to go now,” He says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.  “Sorry babe.”

 _“Your loss,”_ Keith says simply and Shiro nods along.

“My loss,” Shiro agrees then pauses, and thinks for a moment. Keith’s got him heated, but Shiro likes getting the last word in, so he makes sure to sound unaffected when he speaks. “Find something to play with tonight. Maybe something to fuck yourself with. I want to watch.”

Keith’s eyes go wide, and Shiro ends the call before he can say anything. He stares at his blank screen for a second, before another beep on his phone kicks him into action. He quickly slips into his professional personality as he picks up a call informing his car is ready downstairs. He’s not quite calm by the time he reaches his meeting, but he’s got a lid on the desire licking away at him. 

Through the day, Shiro keeps Keith in the back of his mind as something to think about when meetings get too boring or frustrating. It works in some ways, where Shiro feels himself fractionally relax after a tense argument. It doesn’t work in other ways, where Shiro feels a deep physical longing as he thinks about Keith with a hand around himself, saying Shiro’s name in a rasp whisper. 

Sometime in the early evening, when Shiro’s got an hour to himself in the hotel before a business dinner, he texts Keith to ask him what he’s up to. Keith texts back, tells him he’s too busy to talk at the moment because he’s still at work. Shiro sets an alarm and is about to take a nap when his phone pings with a text. It’s from Keith, and it’s got a file attached.

Shiro doesn’t register it’s a video file until it opens up to Keith in his bed, grainy in the dark as his boxers stretch around his thighs. He’s got himself hard in his hand, moving fast, and Shiro’s feeling less and less sleepy as the video slips by. Keith grunts softly, and watching him move is hypnotic. Shiro thinks that this is what dying feels like—in the best way possible. The video gets interrupted by a notification, one from Keith that reads a simple _I’ll see you tonight._

 

* * *

 

  
Keith makes good on Shiro’s command, and puts on a simple show for him that night that leaves Shiro’s head light. Keith teases Shiro about the amount of times he calls Keith baby, and Shiro goes red to the roots of his hair when Keith asks him if there’s something special he wants Keith to call him in return. It’s part implication, part Keith teasing Shiro about it while he’s wearing Shiro’s shirt and dripping lube onto himself and slicking up in slow strokes. Keith’s got a flush across his face that the camera on his laptop’s picking up beautifully for Shiro, and Shiro thinks Keith might be secretly testing the waters. 

It’s unfortunately the first and only time they’re able to do something like that, because both their schedules kick up a notch to the point where Keith has to work over the weekend, and Shiro gets extra meetings tacked onto his. They manage to text but the calls remain infrequent, and Shiro doesn’t want to think too much about it, but he does miss Keith. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone to miss on a trip, and he’s forgotten how easily it creeps up when he’s got a quiet moment in the day.

When he does get into contact with him, Keith seems progressively more tense and exhausted and only sparsely playful. He stays on the line with Shiro as long as he can, but is reticent in telling Shiro about his day. It’ll take too long, he explains, and it’ll just get him agitated all over again. Shiro wants to give him advice on managing the stress, but he doubts Keith wants a seminar over the phone, so instead he gives Keith quick anecdotes about his own day.

He also phones in to a Moroccan restaurant and pays for a full course meal to get sent to Keith’s apartment. Keith calls him again as he’s about to sleep, and Shiro dozes off to Keith repeatedly telling him that he’s the best person _ever_ around a mouthful of food.  It kind of makes up for the fact that Keith can’t call him at all for the remaining two days of the trip and the texts are few and in between.

Shiro flies from his trip back just in time to return to the office to hammer out a full work day. He tries to call Keith near the end of the evening, but Keith’s got another late day at his work. Shiro asks him if he wants to stay over at Shiro’s, but Keith tells him he doesn’t want to keep Shiro up and has already made plans to crash at a co-worker’s place. He apologizes and effectively kills and fantasy Shiro entertained of a heated reunion.

The next day goes the same as well, and Shiro has to remind himself of the time he slept for a week straight in the office of the financial advisory company he interned at in his undergrad. He doesn’t want to push Keith too much, so on the third day he’s back, he doesn’t offer up any plans at all. He gets food sent to Keith’s work this time, just a simple pizza that Keith can play off as having ordered himself. 

Keith texts him his thanks, a short apology for being hard to reach, and a request for dinner the next night. It’s a little more abrupt than his normal tone, but Shiro agrees anyways and tells him he’ll pick him up in the evening. Keith sends another apology again, telling Shiro that he’s just really stressed and he does really want to see Shiro. There’s no need for him to apologize, and Shiro lets him know as much. Keith sends him one last text, an _I’ll make it up to you_ followed by a _I really miss you_ and a _I mean it_.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro drums his fingers against the steering wheel of his car. He’s waiting at the front of Keith’s apartment building, and it’s been almost fifteen minutes since he’s reached. It’s a single lane drive-through, and he’s been lucky enough that no one’s come up behind him yet. 

He’s already called and texted Keith, and Keith has tried to tell Shiro to come up and wait while he got ready. It’s tempting, but the visitor’s parking for Keith’s building is crowded and a five-minute walk away. Shiro’s also not seen Keith in a while; if he sees Keith in a state of undress, any hope of making it to their dinner reservation on time let alone at all, will fly out the window. He tells Keith as much, promises he’ll come up when they come back, but Keith still sounds put out when he hangs up the phone.

So Shiro waits, getting slightly impatient as time slowly ticks by. He checks his phone again, but sees no text from Keith aside from the one he received seven minutes ago, telling him Keith’s going to be down in a second. Shiro’s already turned the car off, and a building supervisor’s dropped by to see if he’s not trying to sneak free parking.

Keith had picked the time, and had even got home from work early enough, and Shiro’s surprised that he’s taking this long. The amount of time they have to get to the seafood restaurant Shiro’s got them reservations for is slowly reducing.  He’s on the verge of calling Keith again, or just giving in and finding a parking spot in the crowded visitor’s lot of the building and going up to retrieve Keith.

Shiro’s in the middle of dialing Keith again when he sees Keith rushing out of the building. His hair’s still wet and his jacket’s falling off as he jogs towards Shiro’s SUV. The shirt he’s got on is buttoned up haphazardly, and Shiro’s pretty sure the jeans Keith has on has an impressive stain on the knee.

Shiro unlocks the passenger door and pushes it open, and Keith practically throws himself into the car. Keith closes the door with a little more force than usual, and Shiro can already tell there’s something wrong by the way Keith’s eyebrows are pinched. 

“Hey babe,” Shiro turns in his seat but Keith’s already meeting him in a kiss that’s got a surprising amount of force behind it. It’s almost painful, and if this wasn’t the first kiss Shiro’s shared with him in a couple of weeks, Shiro would have teased Keith about being too eager. He tries to temper Keith by cupping the back of his head and slowing him down, easing some of the pressure off of Shiro’s mouth. 

The kiss slows down the way he wants and Shiro gets a chance to properly appreciate the taste of faint peppermint in Keith’s mouth. For a moment, he forgets that they’re officially running late and that it’s something he was starting to get irritated about, and just hones in on having him in this moment with Keith. It strikes Shiro just how much he’s missed Keith and he tries to pour that out into the way he moves his mouth against him. When they separate, Keith’s face is soft, and he sneaks in a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth.

“I missed you,” He says in a gentle contrast to the way he pounced on Shiro. Shiro brushes aside Keith’s bangs and kisses Keith again, and a car behind them honks. Shiro and Keith jump apart, the moment over. They make quick work of buckling up, and Shiro pulls out of the lane. 

He steals a sideways glance as he pulls out of the complex, and is struck by how exhausted Keith looks. His eyes look more tired than normal, and his skin’s pale, like he hasn’t been sleeping properly. Despite this, Keith’s holding himself in a tense line, his back barely touching the seat.

“How was your day?” Shiro asks as he pulls out onto the main street. They’re driving to the north end of the city and he’s racking his brain to think of what shortcuts he can take to get to the restaurant in a reasonable amount of time. Keith gives a non-committal grunt in reply.

“Just work,” Keith answers blandly, watching a car pass by them. “Nothing new.”

“Are they still trying to wear you down?” Shiro asks, and reaches to give Keith a reassuring touch. His hand lands on Keith’s thigh and he squeezes it before rubbing in circles with his thumb. Keith still feels tense under his fingers, and nothing about his body has eased up. 

“You can say that,” Keith says, and his voice is tight.  They reach a red light, and Shiro takes a proper look at Keith. The rigidity in his posture has magnified, and Shiro knows for sure that there’s something wrong with Keith, beyond just an overwhelming work week. He doesn’t know if that’s what made Keith late, but Shiro’s concern is steadily growing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shiro starts. “Are you sure you want to go to dinner?” 

A long silence follows and gives Shiro his answer. Keith’s normally very direct, but he just stares out the window as Shiro switches lanes. Half a song on the radio goes by before Keith speaks again.

“Don’t we have reservations?” Keith asks finally, and Shiro shrugs. They do, and they were reservations that were hard to get on such a short notice, but Keith seems to be coiling over something and Shiro doesn’t want him to have a horrible time.

“You seem worried about something,” Shiro says. “It’s up to you. What do you want?”

“What do _you_ want?”

“Keith,” Shiro tries to give him another reassuring squeeze. “It’s your call.”

Keith lets out a sigh, one that’s laden with a tangible amount of frustration disproportionate to the amount they’ve talked. He moves his thigh enough that Shiro gets the hint and drops his hand from it. Keith shifts his thigh back just in time for it to press against Shiro’s hand in a contradictory move.

“I don’t know Shiro,” Keith says, the snap in his voice causing Shiro to wince. “It’s been a long week. I just want to get fucked stupid and get some sleep.”

It’s good that they’re coming up to a red light, because Shiro slams the brakes so hard that the car screeches as it comes to a halt. He looks at Keith, and Keith’s looking straight ahead with an indiscernible face. Shiro says nothing, and Keith continues to sit in silence.

“Okay,” Shiro says finally, slowly and quietly. “Just say so next time.”

Keith gives a flippant “ _okay_ ” and Shiro quickly starts changing his game plan. It took him some string-pulling to get a table for tonight, but it’s clearly not going to be worth it if Keith’s going to look and feel sour all night. Shiro doesn’t know what’s actually troubling Keith and Keith seems intent on keeping his mouth shut. While he doesn’t want to interrogate Keith for answers, Shiro does want to make sure he’s okay. 

The light turns green and Shiro changes over to the left lane from a standstill. Thankfully, this street is relatively empty and he easily takes a left turn. He hasn’t been through this part of the city in ages but Shiro’s got a memory like a map and remembers the way. It’s just a matter of whether it’s still as isolated as it used to be or not.

The parking lot is empty when he pulls in. It’s quiet, tucked in between a tiny greenhouse and info center, and leads out into a large park. A large street lamp casts a blue glow over the lot, and Shiro pulls into a spot as far away from any light as possible.  He doesn’t think Keith would be very amenable to opening up to Shiro in a restaurant. This lot is rarely ever used past the hours of the buildings sandwiching it, and Shiro thinks it’ll be better for a private conversation. He’s not a fan of just pulling over to the side of a road because someone eventually gets curious as to whether he’s having a fight or not and slows down to check it out.

“We’re going to miss our reservation,” Keith says as Shiro puts the car in the park.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro tells Keith, and in the faint light he sees Keith raise an eyebrow. “Let’s talk.”

“About?” Keith asks, and Shiro unbuckles his seatbelt and twists in his seat to fully look at Keith.

“If you’re doing okay—” Shiro starts, but Keith interrupts him.

“I told you,” Keith says briskly. “I’ve had a long week. A long two weeks. A month, even. It tends to happen.”

“I know,” Shiro tries to assure him, and he reaches out to run his fingers through Keith’s hair. “I want to make you feel better. You sound like you’re upset over something.”

“How so?” Keith prods and Shiro shakes his head. 

“Your voice has an edge to it,” Shiro says, and Keith snorts. He immediately feels stupid for saying it, especially when Keith’s voice goes saccharine in a way that sounds like it’s mocking Shiro. 

“Yeah?” Keith says with a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, _sir_.”

Keith’s voice is even but Shiro can tell it’s irritated. Keith’s reaction seems more and more guarded, and while Shiro doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong to Keith, he thinks poking Keith further about it will just spell trouble for himself.  Shiro changes course again.

To test if it’s worth a shot to begin with, he pulls Keith in for a kiss. Keith freezes and doesn’t do anything for a moment before he softly presses against Shiro. He shifts in his seat and leans in closer. Shiro cups his face and runs a thumb over his cheekbone. The way Keith’s tension starts to slowly bleed out just from the contact tells Shiro that it might be worth it. Shiro’s found that Keith gets grounded and comforted most by physical touch, even though he seems like the type that’s averse to it at first. Shiro’s going to focus less on figuring out what’s wrong and concentrate on making Keith feel better about whatever’s hanging over him. 

Then Keith bites down on Shiro’s lip, hard enough for Shiro to make a noise, but he runs a tongue over it and tries to get Shiro’s mouth to open up. Shiro now knows it’s definitely worth a shot. Shiro pulls back and Keith follows, but Shiro presses a hand against Keith’s chest to keep him back. 

“Stop calling me sir,” Shiro says. “I know you don’t mean it.”

“Are you sure about it?” Keith replies with a toothy grin. It’s got a glint to it and seems fake, but the stiff undercurrent in Keith’s voice has started to slowly ebb away.  “Is there something else you’d like me to call you?”

Shiro narrows his eyes at Keith because he knows what Keith’s getting at. It’s the same thing he had teased him about when Shiro had been away, and he thinks Keith’s going to use it to taunt him this time. But Keith’s shoulders have started to slump down, and he looks like he’s not holding himself with as much trepidation, so Shiro sees how far he can play. 

“Get in the back,” He says in a firm voice. “Don’t mess up my seats.”

“Yes sir,” Keith drawls, and Shiro opens his door to get out of the car. He scans the parking lot to double check that it’s still empty, and sees no cars on the road nearby. He slams the door of the SUV shut, and can tell by the way the car rocks slightly that Keith’s completely ignoring the second half of his directive.

He slips into the back as Keith’s trying to squeeze through the front seats, crawling on top of the arm rest. Shiro slides to the center and grabs Keith by his arms, pins them to his side and hauls him forward till he’s fully off the armrest. Shiro spreads his legs and yanks Keith onto his lap. Keith tries his best to assist and makes no effort to not mark up the black leather interior with his shoes.

“Hey,“ Shiro admonishes, as he finds himself with a handful of Keith. “What did I say about the seats?”

“Clean them,” Keith snips, but his voice has started to lose its bite. “It’s not like you don’t have the money.”

“I’m going to make you do it,” Shiro says sternly, and Keith gives a short laugh. “I’m serious. I won’t let you leave till it’s shining again.”

“Yeah okay,” Keith replies, shifting to get more comfortable on Shiro’s lap. “This is an odd way to have a heart to heart. Are you trying to seduce my problems out of me?”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” Shiro pinches the waistband of Keith’s jeans and pulls him forward. “I want to take your mind off whatever’s got you upset. Unless now you want to talk?”

“Yes,” Keith says dryly. “Talking is exactly what I want to do.”

Shiro’s about to retort, but Keith lunges forward and wastes no time in kissing Shiro. It’s sloppy and biting and completely delinquent, and Keith’s making no efforts to hide that he’s got something pent up inside of him. Shiro’s hands slide up his back, and he’s about to grab Keith by the hair when Keith pulls off. Shiro tries to chase him, but he puts a finger to Shiro’s lips and pushes him back. Shiro shoots him a questioning look and Keith gives him a wicked grin in return.

Keith braces one hand against the ceiling of the car and the other on Shiro’s shoulder, curling his fingers against the thick charcoal suit-jacket Shiro’s wearing. Shiro knows it’s bad form to wear office clothes to a date, but it’s been a long day and he knows Keith doesn’t care.

“This has to come off,” Keith says. Before Shiro can ask him what he thinks he’s doing, Keith uses his support to grind down on Shiro’s lap, hard and slow. Shiro momentarily forgets how to speak and closes his eyes, biting back a groan as he tips his head back. He puts in only half the effort in grabbing Keith and stopping him. Keith looks at him with a self-satisfied expression that’s miles better than the pinched look he was wearing earlier, and Shiro knows it’s officially on now.

“If you’re not trying to get me to talk,” Keith says, and he pulls at the collar of Shiro’s shirt. “Then what are you trying to do?”

“Teach you some manners maybe,” Shiro murmurs, watching the fingers curl in the fabric and tug. Shiro doesn’t move, opting to look up at Keith with one eyebrow raised. “Are you going to be good for me, baby?”

“Maybe,” Keith purrs, leaning in to nip at Shiro’s jaw. His hands start to make quick work of Shiro’s buttons, and Keith’s voice drips with sarcasm that Shiro knows he has to fuck out of him. “Only if you can make me, _daddy_.”

Shiro gives Keith’s hip a warning squeeze. It’s not the first time Keith’s dangled the word in front of him. He likes to rib Shiro about how many times he calls Keith baby and how much money Shiro’s spent on Keith. He first teased him about it when he put on a show for Shiro on his business trip. Shiro had gotten flustered, had sputtered and told Keith to shut up and just get on with it, and Keith had laughed for a good few seconds, but had remained hard through it all.

“Behave,” Shiro warns, and Keith gives an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes.

“What did I do?” Keith’s voice is back to that sweet, mocking tone as he sticks his lower lip out a little. He’s already slid into his role, and Shiro’s quickly following behind him. “Isn’t that what you want me to call you? You said you didn’t want me calling you sir.”

Having enough, Shiro smacks Keith’s ass with just the amount of frustration and force he knows Keith likes, and it sends Keith further forward. It’s Shiro’s turn to pull him into a biting kiss that has Keith panting lightly into his mouth when he slips his tongue in. Keith pulls back, and there’s a fleeting look of gratitude on his face that passes before he hides it with another kiss.

Keith’s demanding and bossy in a specific way that calls for Shiro to push in physically and take over. It’s how they play-fight, and the more obnoxious Keith is about it, the sweeter it ends up for both of them. Shiro reaches forward to push off Keith’s jacket and start tugging on the hem of his shirt. It’s a soft white button up, and Keith starts to quickly pop off the buttons. Shiro’s tempted to help but the shirt looks new and if he puts his hands on it, he’s going to wreck it.

When Keith tries to shove out of his shirt, Shiro catches the fabric midway and twists it. He holds onto it with an iron grip so that Keith can’t take off his shirt or move his arms and Keith grunts and squirms.

“Call me whatever you want,” Shiro says, sweet voice matching the same one Keith had on earlier as he pops the button of Keith’s jeans open with his free hand. “But I’ll hold you to it.”

Shiro unzips Keith’s pants and gives him a good squeeze over the material. Keith bucks up into the touch, and Shiro knows he’s feeling as starved with desire as Shiro is.

“Tell me,” Shiro uses the hold he has on Keith to pull him forward, not allowing Keith any movement of his own. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“Like this,” Keith says into Shiro’s ear. Shiro hasn’t forgotten the intensity Keith can reach, but it makes his heart skip a beat anyways. “Right here.”

“Let me get you somewhere more comfortable,” Shiro says, husky against Keith's throat. He wants to take Keith right here, but they’ve got nothing on them. Shiro's already thinking about getting Keith off with his hand instead, and then driving them straight back to Shiro’s place. He’ll make it up to Keith by fucking him properly on his dining table or on the floor or against the front door, depending on where in the apartment his self-control leaves him.

Keith starts to twist out of his grip, applying enough force to let Shiro know that he actually wants to be set free. When Shiro lets go, Keith shucks off the rest of his shirt before he grabs Shiro’s hand and shoves it gracelessly down the back of his pants. Shiro stops but Keith urges him on till he’s pushing Shiro’s fingers where he wants them, and Shiro makes a soft sound at what he finds. Keith’s still a little wet and when he guides one of Shiro’s fingers in, his body gives way easily.

 “You should have come up when I called you” Keith says, voice low, urging Shiro to go deeper. “I got myself all ready for you, thinking of you, but you just wouldn't come.”

“Should have asked nicely,” Shiro says, and adds a second finger. 

The corners of Keith’s mouth tilt up into an extremely self-satisfied smile. He moves Shiro’s fingers again, urging him in further. It’s barely slick enough for Shiro to twist and hook his fingers into Keith in a way that has him shuddering before he rallies.  Keith uses the headrest of Shiro’s seat to anchor himself before he rolls down on Shiro’s fingers, letting out a breathy _hah_ as Shiro finds what Keith needs him to find and presses in. Keith spreads his legs wider and Shiro reaches forward to palm at his front again.

 “Still think we should go to mine or back to yours though,” Shiro looks down and wets his lips with his tongue. “We need a lot more things if you want me to treat you like a gentleman.”

Keith has the audacity to wink at Shiro as he stills. He holds Shiro’s wrist with one hand, keeping his fingers inside, while he reaches down for his jacket with the other. He shakes out one of the pockets and a bottle of lube falls out. Shiro faintly wonders if Keith just carries these things around wherever they go.

“Still want to find somewhere else?” Keith asks, teasing as he taps the bottle of lube against Shiro’s lips. Shiro grabs it between his teeth and with draws his fingers out of Keith. He takes a good look at the bottle, and then at Keith, who’s already got a pink flush spreading across his chest.

 “Is this all you have?” Shiro pops open the lid and drops a liberal amount onto his hand. Keith grins at him, crooked and cocky in a way that Shiro can’t wait to wipe off.  “You’re going to mess up my car.”

“Good,” Keith says, and reaches down to unbuckle Shiro’s belt. Shiro slicks up his fingers and pulls Keith’s jeans, bringing them down around his thighs. He reaches for Keith again, and this time getting the fingers in is a lot easier. Keith makes pleased sounds and it doesn’t take long for Shiro to stretch him on three.

“Baby tell me,” Shiro bucks up and Keith smacks the ceiling for support. “Tell me how good I am to you.”

“Daddy,” He drawls out, breathless and laughing. Shiro narrows his eyes at Keith, hiding whatever happiness he feels at the sound. “You're _so_ good to me.”

Keith yanks at Shiro’s pants, sliding them down with his boxers in one go, just enough to free Shiro. Shiro tries to kiss him, but Keith can’t stop looking in between them. He takes the lube and pours some onto his hand. Shiro has to bite down on his own lip hard when he feels a warm, wet hand around him. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to touch Keith that having him pull Shiro in firm, slow strokes has Shiro questioning his own stamina. He shifts into Keith’s hand just as he curls his fingers in him. By the broken exhale Keith gives, Shiro knows he’s not the only one who’s closing in fast. Keith moves his hand quicker, and Shiro can feel himself shaking.

“Keith—“ Shiro says, and Keith leans in for a kiss before squeezing Shiro at the base and cutting him off. Shiro’s eyes shoot wide open, and Keith looks all too pleased at his reaction.

“I didn’t get naked in a parking lot for you to just use your hands,” Keith states, and Shiro gives him an incredulous look. He knows he should quip back but the blood pounding through his ears is too loud, his heart beating hard at being cut off. He figures it’d be better to act than have any type of neediness show in his voice, so Shiro presses his lips together and withdraws his fingers completely from Keith.

Keith opens his mouth, but Shiro doesn’t wait for him. He starts to push Keith back till he’s leaning against the front seats, and shoves one of Keith’s legs up to free it from a pant leg. Once he’s satisfied, Shiro manhandles Keith roughly till Keith’s turned around in his lap, legs folded on either side. Shiro reaches forward for the base of Keith’s neck and uses the hair there to pull Keith back against him.

“On your knees,” Shiro directs, and doesn’t give Keith a chance to act before he uses the same hand to raise Keith up. Shiro takes himself in hand, and Keith makes a sound when Shiro presses close. “Is this what you want?”

“What do you think?” Keith says, all playful heat, and Shiro starts to sit Keith down onto his lap.

Shiro lets out a low moan at how well Keith slides down onto him. It really has been too long, and the feeling of Keith around him threatens to unravel Shiro fast.  He slides his hand down from Keith’s hair, tracing a soft line down to the middle of his back before splaying his palm. He stares at how much space it takes up and rocks up gently, letting Keith adjust. Keith’s fully flushed now, and has a hand reaching back to fist in Shiro’s hair. Shiro takes his time, going slow till he thinks Keith’s ready.

When the small sounds of discomfort stop falling from Keith’s mouth, Shiro raises his hand and presses between Keith’s shoulder blades. Keith leans forward obediently, and Shiro massages soft circles down his back as he thinks about what he’s going to do to Keith. It’s been a while, enough that Shiro’s got enough pent up lust in him to want to fuck Keith like he owns him. Keith looks over his shoulder at Shiro, wearing a half-smile that tells Shiro he’s going to be on the receiving end of some snark if he doesn’t act soon.

Shiro brings his hand down on Keith’s ass with a sharp _crack_ , and it has more bite for Keith now that his pants are off and Shiro's in him. Keith falters, and Shiro kneads the pink mark, rubbing a thumb over it to soothe it before cupping and squeezing.

“I keep telling you to be good,” Shiro thrusts up just as he brings his hand down again. “You just have to listen.”

This time Keith lets out a noise that’s _loud_. Shiro stutters at the sound, because he’s never heard Keith ever at this volume before and he hasn’t even started moving properly. He’s then struck with the immediate need to hear it again so he pushes in hard as he smacks Keith a third time.

“Fu- _uck_ ,” Keith swears, and Shiro circles his hand around Keith’s neck to lift him up against his chest again.

“We can’t be loud,” Shiro bites Keith earlobe before turning Keith’s head towards him. Keith parts his mouth, ready for a kiss, but Shiro starts to fuck into him in earnest. He bars Keith with his other arm, feeling him squirm but not allowing him to move as Shiro makes good on almost a month of not having him like this.

Keith’s keyed up as well, because he’s making more noise in one go than Shiro’s ever heard from him. He tries to say Shiro’s name but it gets lost in a blend of moans and yelps as Shiro thrusts up with considerable force. Shiro hushes him, tells him to be quiet while he sets a punishing pace that has Keith panting into his mouth. Keith tries to kiss him, but Shiro keeps his grip firm around his neck to stop him from going any further than Shiro wants him to go. Keith whines, a rare sound from him that eggs Shiro on.

Keith cries out with each hard snap of Shiro’s hips. He strains against Shiro’s hold, and chokes out a loud moan when Shiro pins him harder, squeezing the hand on his throat. Shiro always appreciates Keith’s strength; he’s lithe but well defined in a way that draws attention. Shiro appreciates it even more when he’s getting Keith to go weak and melt into his arms.

“What did you say you wanted to call me?” Shiro says through clenched teeth, feeling the back of his shirt start to go damp with the effort. Keith’s teasing has earned him something special, and Shiro’s one to always deliver.

“Nothing,” Keith gasps out and clings on to the arm across him. “Noth – oh, _oh_ – nothing, nothing—“

“You sure?” Shiro angles them so that the next time he pushes in, Keith’s entire body shakes. His hand immediately goes down and Shiro wrenches it away before Keith can touch himself.

“No,” Shiro skims his teeth over the corded muscle of Keith’s neck. Keith presses back in him, and Shiro bites down hard before soothing it with his tongue. “You’re going to come when I say so, and only then.”

Keith lets out an unabashed moan at the way Shiro drives into him mercilessly. Even in the privacy of either of their apartments, Keith's never gotten loud like this before, not this fast. Shiro puts in all his strength towards canting his hips into Keith, and when he turns his head to place a kiss against Keith’s cheek, Shiro can see Keith's eyes start to roll to the back of his head. He's shaking, and his entire body has gone a brilliant red as it takes what Shiro gives.

Keith bites his lip and Shiro moves the hand around his throat upwards. He presses three fingers into Keith’s mouth, just as he squeezes Keith’s base, effectively cutting him off from even thinking about coming. Keith lets out a shout around Shiro’s hand, but Shiro keeps it in Keith’s mouth. He moves his hand in and out in sync with his hips. Keith grabs his forearm with both hands and tries to get Shiro press his fingers in deeper.

“Say it,” Shiro keeps his voice sweet, dripping with sugar as he anchors his fingers in Keith’s mouth. “You were so keen on it before. I’ll let you come if you call me that again.”

Keith tries to form words, but Shiro keeps his mouth full. Keith’s grip on his arm turns bruising, but Keith makes no effort to pull Shiro away.

“All you have to do is say it baby,” Shiro thrusts up and almost gags Keith with his fingers. Keith sings beautifully at that, and his teeth scrape across rough skin. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll let you come.”

Keith whines and whines and Shiro pushes him back till his head’s tilted over Shiro’s shoulder again, and Shiro can kiss at his neck. Heat radiates off Keith’s body, and Shiro swipes his tongue to taste the sweat pooling across his skin. Keith feels like jelly in Shiro’s arms, and it’s only a matter of time before he completely falls apart.

“I can’t hear you,” Shiro purrs, and Keith chokes out a sob. It’s better than him begging. “Tell me what you want.”

Shiro’s sure Keith swears but Keith’s voice is muffled. Shiro’s thighs are burning from the effort, and both of them are slick with sweat but Shiro doesn’t want this to end. Keith’s almost limp in Shiro’s arms, like his only purpose in this moment is to get fucked by Shiro.

“Are you going to be good now?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods frantically. “I’ll let you come if you are.”

Shiro draws his fingers out, giving Keith's chin a wet squeeze. Keith arches against him, but Shiro makes sure he doesn't go too far. He flattens his palm against Keith's chest and pulls him back towards him.

“Fuck,” Keith swears loudly. He’s heaving, taking in huge gasps as Shiro keeps moving in him. “Shiro, please–“

“I told you,” Shiro’s surprised at the low roughness of his own voice. He’s barely hanging on, the all-encompassing heat of Keith overwhelming him. Keith’s become loud too, his voice hoarse as it rattles through the car. Shiro doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold on much longer. “I’ll let you come when you use your words. Tell me whose you are.”

“I’m yours- _oh god_ \- yours, Shiro, please,” Keith begs. “Just yours-”

“Yours what?” Shiro knows he’s plucking at Keith’s last threads here, but Keith’s never been this loud and frantic and desperate before.

“Yours, _daddy_ , _“_ Keith repeats and his voice is wet and broken. “I can’t anymore, please, please let me come daddy _-_ ”

Shiro feels something primal within him snap and he lets go of Keith, giving him a soft push between his shoulder blades before planting both hands firmly on his hips. Keith falls forward automatically, catching himself with one hand against one of the bars of the headrest.

“Touch yourself,” Shiro commands and Keith moans Shiro’s name like he’s too incapable of anything else. “Do what I say, baby.”

Keith’s hand shoots in between him, and he’s openly crying out as he starts to jerk himself off. Shiro plants his feet down and fucks up into Keith, trying to brand him. Keith takes it like it’s what he’s made for and Shiro can see little bruises bloom under his fingers where they grip Keith.

“Sh- Shiro,” Keith’s completely gone now, and Shiro’s surprised he’s managed this long after he let Keith go. “Shiro, please, I need you—”

Shiro takes some mercy and closes a hand over Keith’s. For the first time ever, Shiro hears Keith wail as he comes. It’s loud and desperate and causes Shiro to spill hot with a loud groan that shapes around Keith’s name. He rides it out, slowing down to a stop when he’s soft and sensitive and Keith’s gone completely limp against him, making soft noises as he hangs his head between his shoulders.

For a moment, the car’s filled with just the sounds of their breathing. Shiro’s too stunned to move, brain hazy and trying to process the moment. Keith starts to fully slump forward, and Shiro immediately catches him, pulling him up. Gently, he moves Keith off of him, feeling bereft as Keith goes where Shiro moves him.

This time he takes a lot more care in turning Keith around, shifting him softly so that he can sit in Shiro’s lap comfortably. Shiro wraps his hand around Keith’s waist, high enough to not cause him any discomfort. Keith’s eyes are hooded, and he leans in to nose at Shiro’s neck before resting there. They stay like that for a few seconds and when his heartbeat’s started to return back to normal, Shiro speaks.

“Keith,” Shiro says gently. “Look at me.”

Keith pushes back weakly, and looks at Shiro. His face is still flushed, but his breathing has evened out and the blush is fading from his chest. He's naked and handsome and Shiro silently thanks every being that's made it possible for him to have this man in his lap in the back of his Lincoln in an empty parking lot.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice rough. He's not quite lifted himself out of his own stupor, and Shiro sends a silent prayer that no one heard or saw them. He kisses Keith's chin, and Keith makes a noise before tilting his head, baring his neck. Shiro obliges and kisses him there as well.

“I think we missed dinner,” Shiro says against Keith’s throat, and he can feel the rumble of the Keith’s laugh. He kisses it again, thumbing sweat-plastered hair out of the way.

“Your fault,” Keith says with a twinkle in his voice, and Shiro buries his smile in Keith’s collarbone. Keith starts to comb his fingers through Shiro’s hair, massaging Shiro’s scalp, and Shiro starts thinking about the way he wants to take care of Keith.

Keith’s place is closer. Much closer. But Shiro’s place means Shiro can run a proper bath and sit Keith between his legs in the warm water while he massages his shoulders. Shiro’s place means he can ring the concierge for a lavish dinner that they don’t have to step outside for. They can eat while they curl up on Shiro’s couch, watch shitty Netflix movies, and spend all of tomorrow morning sleeping off the exhaustion from the week.

Before Shiro can suggest any of this, Keith starts kissing him. Keith likes to calm down like this, touching easily with no intent. Shiro indulges him at every turn and is deeply content at how well they came together.

“I missed you,” Keith whispers in between kisses. “I know you were only gone for a bit but I missed you a lot.”

It’s earnest and quiet in the way Keith says it, and it tugs at Shiro’s heart like no other.

“Come with me next month,” Shiro blurts out. “When I have to head back for my arm. It’ll only be a weekend."

Keith’s face does something funny at that; he pinches his brows and frowns. It’s not the expression Shiro was expecting, but before disappointment drop-kicks him in the gut, he tries to retract it.

“You don’t have to,” He says. “Don’t think you do. It’d just be nice, but I know you’re busy.”

Keith kisses him again, cutting him off before he can start his next sentence. It’s not an answer, but it’s reassuring, and Shiro envelopes Keith in a tight hug.

“I will,” Keith says, pressing his forehead against Shiro’s. “I’ll come with you.”

“Good,” Shiro replies, and Keith smiles briefly before his face drops again. Concern rears its head in Shiro again, and he cups Keith’s chin with his fingers. He’s about to tell Keith that while Shiro won’t press him if he doesn’t want to talk, he just wants to make sure Keith’s okay. But Keith beats him to it.

“I got found out,” Keith sighs. “Someone at work found out that I’m with you, and they’re holding it over my head.”

Shiro freezes.

“What?” He asks slowly, and Keith nods. “How?”

Keith shrugs, before wrapping his arms around Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro tries to push him back enough so that he can answer the question, but Keith resists.

“Can we talk about it later?” Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck. “It’s been a long few weeks. I just want to relax.”

If this is what Keith’s been sitting on, Shiro can’t blame him for being on a thin string. He doesn’t want to prod, not when it seems like he’s gotten Keith content for the first time in weeks. If someone’s found them out, it’s worse for Keith than it will be for Shiro, and Shiro doesn’t want to add to Keith’s stress by prodding him when he’s vulnerable.

“Yeah babe,” Shiro knows they’re going to have to talk about it. The fact that someone’s hanging it over Keith sparks some sort of rage within him, but Shiro’s going to have to deal with it later. “Let’s go home.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this excessively long PWP guys! One more chapter after this....wow....

To Shiro’s slight surprise, hooking up in the supply closet at Keith’s work was not what did them in. He’s not sure whether to take that as a victory or not, but Keith presses his lips together and nods when Shiro brings it up. They weren’t caught drunkenly giggling into each other’s shoulders at a bar either. Shiro’s third guess is that they were spotted in a public place, but Keith shakes his head at that as well.

Instead, it had been on a day when Keith had gone to what he thought was a private corner of the first floor lobby of his work’s building. Keith had been on his lunch and had the urge to call and tell Shiro about something stupid that had happened at his office, so that when he went back to his cubicle, he wouldn’t say something that’d get him sent to HR.

Tucked in between two large potted plants in an unfrequented area, Keith had thought he was safe to vent. He hadn’t noticed that someone had been around the corner, taking a shortcut back from lunch. They had picked up Shiro’s name from the conversation, as Keith used it as a punctuation for each one of his rather negative sentiments about his work, and had their curiosity peaked.

Their suspicion had been confirmed once they stared silently over Keith’s shoulder while he was texting Shiro something extensively filthy, after unlocking his phone where his background was the two of them. In his defence, Keith had been a deadly combination of being extremely bored and extremely sleep deprived and completely unobservant. Shiro’s a little taken aback at how easily they were caught, and that someone had been snooping in the first place. He’s also touched that Keith also has a picture of them as his wallpaper.

“She’s extremely good at getting information,” Keith says sadly. “It’s a talent of hers.”

Her being a project manager called Hira, who transferred from Altea to save face in the wake of a small scandal. She cornered Keith about Shiro, and apparently has an intimidating enough stature that the lie Keith tried to tell her crumbled before it made it out of his mouth.

To earn her silence, Hira’s been tasking Keith with an immense amount of work to push her own project and team forward. Rather, she seeks to punish him as she sees fit, and if he doesn’t agree with it, she’s going to take it to someone who is probably a little less lenient. She’s not doing it to extort Keith; had she caught him at any other time, she apparently would not have cared.

“It’ll look good on my resume anyways,” Keith says, and Shiro frowns at him because experience has told him that that’s not how it goes. He tries to tell Keith that Hira can’t break his back, especially at a crucial time in his career like this. Keith tells Shiro that an overworked intern is nothing new, and no one else has gotten suspicious. It’s just business, she claims, and Keith’s convinced himself he’s getting off easy.

It’s a bit of a point of contention between them over the next few days, and it gives Shiro a headache just thinking about it. He wants Keith to counter Hira with something, _anything_ , and Keith tells him Shiro’s not been an office minion for a while and has forgotten how delicate the politics can get when someone’s not at the top. Shiro can tell Keith’s not too happy about the situation, can tell Keith doesn’t fully believe in what comes out of his own mouth, but it’s a sore spot to press on.

Keith’s spirits don’t improve, and he shoots down the various suggestions Shiro puts forward. One day, Shiro even tells Keith to apply for his own company, that Keith will get a good position with his qualifications. Keith scoffs and tells Shiro that it’s going to be an even bigger pain hiding their relationship if they work in the same place, and when Shiro tells him that maybe they won’t have to, Keith looks at him like he’s grown a second head. He says something about not wanting to be looked down on by his coworkers, and though he’s got a point, Shiro deflates a little.

Shiro gets a folder on his desk one morning with a list of suggested names from Gamara for the collaboration they’re carrying out with his company. He sees Hira’s name on it, and he’s barely contemplated being petty before he can hear Keith’s voice ring through his head like a clear bell. It admonishes him for even _thinking_ about stooping down that low, so he passes off the task to an eager-to-please department director.

But he does feel some sort of selfish regret when he goes over to Keith’s place afterwards and sees Keith looking dead on his feet and highly irritated. Shiro tries to bring it up in a joking manner, but it pisses Keith off anyways and completely shuts down. He’s quiet as they eat dinner, quiet as they sit on his couch and flick aimlessly through television channels.

Shiro knows Keith’s not directly mad at him, but he leaves it to Keith to decide when to break the silence. It happens when they turn down for the night, and he gives Shiro his standard kiss goodnight. They’re tucked under the blankets, and Shiro feels hands on his waist try and pull him closer. He kisses Keith again, simple and chaste, but there’s an urgency to the way that Keith tugs at him. He rolls on top, kicks the blankets off, and starts to kiss Keith in earnest.

Shiro licks a sloppy path down his chest, and can hear Keith murmuring apologies above him for ignoring him all evening. Keith lets his legs get hooked over Shiro’s shoulders as Shiro blows him and Shiro revels in the weight and taste of Keith in his mouth and the feeling of toes curling against his back as he works him into a mess.

It relaxes Keith, and he makes good on his apology to Shiro by propping himself up on his headboard and guiding Shiro into his mouth, hands gripping hard on Shiro's thighs. The temptation to strike Hira’s name is still there within Shiro but he knows Keith won’t forgive him for it. He knows Keith wants karma to deal its own hand and wants the two of them to stay out of the way as much as possible.

Keith contemplates a third option, which would be to get a new job completely. It’s not ideal, not in the middle of a highly sought-after internship, but Keith thinks it’s a way for him to find middle ground. He won’t be coerced by Hira, and he won’t lose his job in an ugly manner. He also won’t take Shiro as a reference, nor does he want Shiro to use his extensive network to find Keith work. It’s a point of pride for Keith that Shiro fully understands because if their positions switched, he would be the same way.

It doesn’t mean he likes it though, so Shiro puts forward one last suggestion.

“You should be my kept man,” Shiro tells Keith one night when they’re lying on the white fur rug in Shiro’s bedroom, panting as they try to come down from a high. He’s still keyed up, and thinks Keith’s loose enough that they should be able to slip into a second round soon enough. Keith’s lying beside him and hasn’t started crawling onto Shiro to seek affection yet, so Shiro knows he’s thinking of the same.

“What do you mean?” Keith asks, looking over at Shiro. Sweat has plastered his bangs to his forehead, and his face is still a blotchy pink. The blush has faded from his chest, but Shiro’s determined to get it back there soon.

“I make enough money for both of us,” Shiro says idly, and raises a hand to squeeze Keith’s thigh. He drags it up slowly to the crease of his leg. “Take a sabbatical. Don’t work for a while.”

 _Live with me_ , Shiro wants to say, but therein lies the unspoken part of their situation. They’ve been dating for almost six months now, even though it feels like Shiro doored Keith into his life just a week ago. Shiro feels strongly for Keith, stronger than he ever has for anyone at this point in a relationship. Or at any point. But the rational part of his brain keeps asking him if they’ve been together long enough for them to be revolving such major life decisions around each other.

It’s been a long time since he’s been in a long-term relationship but he doesn’t remember ever feeling like this with anyone before. He knows people who’ve gotten married within a year of meeting each other, people who’ve not defined their relationship for three, and he’s not sure where they fall. Shiro wishes there was a definitive guide that’d tell him whether or not it’s too soon for him to ask Keith to move in with him.

However, Shiro can just as easily pay for Keith’s apartment. He’s offered to help Keith before with his bills and Keith’s refused point-blank, but Shiro won’t mind taking on the entire financial weight of it. It’s inconsequential to him anyways, and just another feather in his cap when it comes to spoiling Keith.

Keith laughs, takes his suggestion as a joke, and Shiro’s brought back to the moment. Keith rolls on top of Shiro, lazily dragging himself up so that they can share a languid kiss.

“What?” Shiro asks, trying to sound offended.

“So eager to spend money on me,” Keith teases. “You better be careful with your wallet.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve easily taken you on dates worth more than your rent,” Shiro points out. “It’s no big deal to me.”

Keith gets a glazed look in his eye and before Shiro can ask what he’s thinking, he pounces on him. Though his response is enthusiastic, Keith later tells Shiro that the thought’s nice but he’s too fidgety to be a stay-at-home trophy boyfriend.

Keith doesn’t see things in definitive; there’s a grey area somewhere in there that he’s determined he can work within. Shiro shrugs and goes along with it because he can only do as much as Keith will let him.

 

* * *

 

Keith does end up finding a tentative solution. It sends an immense amount of conflicting feelings through Shiro.

They’re sprawled on Shiro’s sofa, sinking into the leather with Shiro tucked in between Keith’s legs. It’s a weeknight, and they’re watching a shitty action movie in the living room. Keith’s coworker had called it a cinematic masterpiece and had lent Keith the DVD to prove his point. Keith’s coworker is objectively wrong as the movie is objectively terrible and Shiro’s insulted on the behalf of his excessively massive television screen. Keith’s pretending to be into it, purely because Shiro’s asked him if they want to watch something else, so Shiro’s been thinking about the best way to turn around and pounce on Keith for the past five minutes.

He’s mentally settled on turning around and straddling Keith till he can’t see the TV at all, when Keith’s phone pings loud and clear. Keith grunts and Shiro shifts just enough for Keith to be able to dig out his phone from where it had fallen and had gotten buried in between them. He nestles back in between Keith’s legs and twists to face Keith. Whatever he sees on his screen causes him to narrow his eyes and part his mouth, like he’s having some trouble comprehending.

“What’s up?” Shiro asks, and Keith takes a deep breath in. He pauses for a moment, looks at Shiro, and wets his lips before speaking.

“Before I say anything,” Keith says slowly. “I don’t have to give them an answer till we’re back from the trip next week.”

“Give who an answer?” Shiro gives Keith a questioning look. Keith doesn’t reply for a good fifteen seconds, so Shiro sits up and shifts off of Keith’s lap, sliding onto the leather cushion beside Keith. Keith’s fiddling with his phone, scrolling through the same paragraph over and over again. Shiro wants to squint and take a look, but he waits patiently for Keith.

“Altea Tech,” Keith starts, and it immediately clicks for Shiro. ”Uh, but this wasn’t through Allura. Our departments are completely different, and I didn’t mention her when I applied. Or you.”

“Altea,” Shiro repeats, and Keith slowly nods. “You got a job at Altea?”

“They just sent me an offer.” Keith nods, and bites his lip. “I told them I’m going to be in town next week, so they want to meet me in person but I got the offer.”

Shiro blinks. It’s stupid, but the first thing that goes through his head is slight hurt that Keith hadn’t told him he had applied to Altea in the first place, Keith had applied to many places over the past few weeks though, so Shiro’s going to give him the benefit of doubt and assume Keith forgot.

“It’s definitely more than I make right now,” Keith continues on, looking unsure. “And it’s not an internship either, or a short-term contract. It’s a full time job.”

Shiro knows the correct response in this situation is to give Keith an over-ecstatic hug. Altea is notoriously hard to get into, whether one name drops on their application or not. It’s a brilliant place for a brilliant man like Keith, and there’s a large amount of pride swelling in Shiro.

That pride is currently conflicting with the knowledge that Altea is on the other side of the country, far away from Shiro. It’s the type of place people go to permanently, and Shiro himself is in a position where he can’t leave and follow. Or he can. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to gauge what he’s allowed to feel and do in comparison to how long they’ve been together. Shiro doesn’t know how to parse through a lot of things in the moment, so he picks the most positive emotion he’s feeling at the moment and envelopes Keith in a tight hug.

“Congratulations,” Shiro says earnestly. “I’m so proud of you.”

When he pulls back, Keith stares at him with wide eyes. To emphasize his point, Shiro leans in and kisses Keith. But Keith remains still as Shiro tries pressing in, so Shiro draws back with a frown.

“It’s far away,” Keith says faintly, before Shiro can ask what’s wrong. “I should have told you I was applying, but I didn’t even think I’d get it. It was a long shot.”

“I get it. And it is far,” Shiro agrees. “But I heard they’re really generous with their relocation money. And I’ll help you with whatever they don’t cover.”

That doesn’t seem to be the answer Keith’s looking for, because he grimaces and twists his hands in his lap. Shiro tries to take one, enclosing nimble fingers within his own hand, but Keith still looks uneasy.

“It’s far from you,” Keith says quietly. “I’ll be on the other end of the country.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to grimace. Shiro doesn’t think a long distance relationship would kill them, but it sounds like Keith’s confidence in that is a lot lesser than Shiro’s. If they’re to stay close to each other, one of them would end up having to make a sacrifice for the other and neither of them are in a place to do that at the moment. They won’t be for a couple of years at least, and Shiro knows he’s not going to insist Keith be the first one to do so.

“I don’t see that being a problem,” Shiro replies, letting go of Keith. It’s hard for him to pretend that he’s eager about Keith potentially putting the distance of the entire continent in between them. “What else would you do? Stay here at Gamara?”

He’s already started thinking about how he could possibly ask to be stationed out east, maybe for a new company initiative that would justify sending the CFO away from headquarters. At the very least, he’ll probably start to fly out every other weekend to see Keith.

“Maybe Hira will ease off,” Keith says contemplatively, and Shiro narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Hira’s not going to ease off,” Shiro says. “Not while she’s still around. Or you.”

Keith goes tense beside him. He locks his phone and drops it beside him on the sofa. Keith’s fists clench, digging fingers into his thigh, and he straightens up his spine, growing agitation making itself clear.

“You don’t sound upset,” There’s a degree of hurt in Keith’s voice, and it sounds faintly accusatory. Keith’s looking at his lap, and not at Shiro. “Even though it’s far.”

“Am I supposed to?” Shiro asks, bemused, and tries to reach for Keith’s hand again. Keith twitches, and it’s enough for Shiro to withdraw. “It’s a huge accomplishment and I’m happy you got the job, Keith. I’m not going to stop you.”

And he genuinely won’t—Shiro would rather find a way to fold the map in half than stop Keith from achieving something big. Even if he did, Keith would resent him if he tried. Keith might not know it right now, but Shiro knows that if he tells Keith to stay and he listens, Keith’s going to regret it.

“You could sound a little…” Keith trails off, and Shiro purses his lips.

“What?” Shiro prods after Keith makes no indication of speaking again. “What do you want me to sound like?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says abruptly. “You just don’t sound too hung up on the fact that I’m going to have to leave.”

“The distance isn’t great, but I’m not going to tell you to not take it,” Shiro sighs. He leans back against the couch, staring ahead at the movie that’s still playing. He doesn’t mean to sound brisk, but he’s not going to beg Keith to stay. He wants to, but he also doesn’t want to nuke his relationship. “Don’t get mad at me when I’m just trying to be supportive.”

Shiro feels Keith’s shoulders slump beside him, and when he looks at him, Keith’s face is dark. His mouth’s downturned and his brows are pinched and Shiro wonders if his irritation showed a little too much near the end of his sentence. Keith brushes non-existent dust off his lap, and gets up.

“I’m going to bed,” He tells Shiro, and Shiro nods. He pretends to be focused on the television in front of him, but he’s acutely aware of how Keith looks at him before trudging off. The bedroom door slams shut in the distance, and Shiro tries to refocus on the movie.

The movie was shit before, but it’s gone completely sour now. Shiro knows that logically, Keith will accept the position. He’d be a fool not to. Shiro _could_ probably offer him a better job at his own company, one that Keith would be more than capable at doing, but he’s not about to break the clear line Keith has drawn.

In the distance, he can hear the sound of water running in the ensuite of the master bedroom. The thought of joining Keith in the shower crosses his mind automatically but he shuts it down. Keith probably needs some time to cool off by himself and to digest the news about his job.

Shiro doesn’t want to see Keith throw away a good opportunity that can define his career for the sake of their relationship. They’ll make it work, because Shiro’s nothing if not a man of bull-headed determination. Shiro has to figure out how he can encourage and support Keith without sounding like he’s trying to shove Keith away, that he’s eager about Keith leaving.

It’s then that realization dawns upon Shiro. He replays their conversation in his head and cringes mentally as he realizes that in an effort to sound supportive, he missed telling Keith what he wanted to hear. Shiro mulls over what he said and realizes that he’s given Keith words of support, but Keith’s not just a friend that needs a little bit of encouragement. He needs something else, something beyond just Shiro putting on a completely selfless act.

By the time the water stops running, the movie’s almost over. Shiro waits a few minutes after he hears the door to the bathroom close before he turns the television off and gets up. His bedroom door is closed when he approaches it, so he knocks three times before turning the knob. He doesn’t hear anything, so he steps in to see Keith mulling over his phone while standing in front of one of the large windows looking out over the city.

The room is dark, and Keith’s only illuminated by the din of lights from the streets below and the glow of his phone. His face is still stern, but he cuts a handsome image, all sharp edges and tense lines under the loose t-shirt he wears. Shiro turns up the dimmers to make the room just bright enough for Keith to notice his arrival. He looks up at Shiro, and keeps his expression neutral as Shiro approaches him.

Shiro’s tentative and keeps his distance when he approaches Keith. Keith tips his chin up and crosses his arms over his chest as Shiro comes closer, and it reeks of irritation and agitation. Shiro makes sure he looks as relaxed, as soft as possible as he draws near. It won’t be fair to Keith if Shiro looks like he’s about to challenge him when Keith’s the one with a significant decision to make. Keith’s expression softens by a fraction, but his arms remain crossed over his chest.

“You’re irritated with me,” Shiro starts, and Keith exhales loudly through his nose. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Keith says, but there is no hiding the grudging tone in his voice. “I am, but I shouldn’t be. You’re being supportive.”

“I am,” Shiro agrees but doesn’t enter Keith’s space quite yet. “Because you have to do what’s right for you. If it’s going to be good for your career, you should take it. It’s not an easy opportunity to come across.”

Keith’s silent after that. Shiro wants to tell him that he wants to ask Keith to stay, wants to uproot himself and move with Keith if he doesn’t. He wants to tell him that it’s human nature to want to feel needed. Shiro also wants to tell him that the reason he’s not saying any of it is because he values supporting Keith above all else.

“What about you?” Keith finally asks, and Shiro closes his eyes and sighs.

“We’ll figure something out,” He replies slowly. “But I’m not going to ask you to sacrifice a job opportunity because I want you where I am.”

It’s getting closer to what Keith wants to hear, Shiro thinks. Maybe. He needs Keith to know why Shiro’s not on his hands and knees, pleading with him to stay. Keith’s still unreadable, but softer in the way he holds himself.

“You should,” Keith whispers under his breath. It’s so quiet that Shiro thinks he wasn’t meant to hear it, thinks that maybe he even just imagined it. He opens his eyes at the same time he reaches out for Keith, and finds that Keith’s already moving into his space.

Shiro takes him by the hand, and when Keith’s close, he finds himself getting drawn into a hug. Keith buries his face against Shiro’s collarbone and slides his hands up to hold onto Shiro’s back. Shiro buries his face in Keith’s hair and can smell his own soap.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mutters into the cloth of Shiro’s shirt. “I’m not mad. It’s just a lot.”

“I know,” Shiro soothes, runs a hand through Keith’s hair. “Don’t get me wrong.”

He pulls back and presses a soft kiss to Keith’s lips. Keith’s more receptive with this one, even if he’s still holding himself with some rigidity. “I’ll miss you like nothing else if you’re not here.”

By the way Keith’s expression relaxes, it looks like Shiro’s finally got it right. It’s not enough for Shiro to just offer support; Keith wants to know that Shiro’s going to miss him, that Shiro’s invested enough that he’ll feel it if Keith’s not there. Shiro raises his hands to cup Keith’s face, and Keith leans into it.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says, thumbing over Keith’s bottom lip. “I should have said that first.”

Shiro kisses Keith slowly, pouring in an apology into the way he moves his lips. Keith kisses back like he’s trying his best to melt into Shiro. Shiro bunches the shirt under his hands, clinging on to Keith as they kiss in the dimly lit bedroom. He has a lot of things he wants to tell Keith, but it’s hard for him to find words, so he holds on to him as tight as possible.

In between taking breaths, he notices Keith’s wearing one of his old university t-shirts. The way it sits with its shoulders too broad on Keith causes something to reverberate through Shiro’s chest, off the path from the tenderness of the moment. When he goes back to kissing Keith, Shiro plays with the hemline, shifting it up a little so that he can rest his hand on Keith’s lower back.

Keith starts to mirror him and Shiro feels a hand slide up his own shirt. Fingers scratch gently against his skin, but Keith still feels stiff against him. Keith’s hand runs light up his spine before it’s joined by the other one, telling in the way that they both work to bring Shiro closer. Keith hasn’t asked anything outright, so Shiro decides to take that burden on himself.

Without breaking off their kiss, he starts to walk Keith backwards till he’s hitting the wall beside the window. Keith stops pressing up against him and leans back on the wall instead; Shiro ducks and latches onto Keith’s neck immediately, leaving wet kisses where he can. One hand slides out from under his shirt to grasp at the back of his neck, and the other shifts to his front, flattening out across Shiro’s chest but making no move to push him off.

“We should probably talk more,” Keith says, but Shiro knows there’s no intent or action behind those words. Shiro leans back to say something, but Keith occupies him again, opening up his mouth for Shiro. The mood’s already shifted and started ticking in a different direction for both of them and it’s confirmed when Keith completely lets go so that he can start pulling at the hemline of Shiro’s shirt.

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, letting Keith yank the fabric over his shoulders. He helps him pull it off completely and steps back to throw it to the side before crowding Keith up against the wall again. Shiro brackets his arms around Keith, and before either of them can think too hard about it, Shiro takes him up in a more heated kiss. Their teeth click, and even after their apologies, Shiro can tell that their conversation is still making Keith restless.

Keith’s right—they probably should talk more. All things said and done, enough time has passed that Shiro knows what he feels for Keith is genuine and deep-seated, and not just a fleeting way to kill time. He wants the best for Keith, even if it means Keith has to go to the other side of the country. It’s a lot to think about, a lot that Shiro knows he should think about but doesn’t want to.

He interrupts his own train of thought by shifting his hand from against the wall to flatten it out against Keith’s chest. He drags it down slowly as he licks into Keith’s mouth, and tilts Keith’s chin up with his other hand. He runs his palm down, runs it over the front of Keith's sweatpants, snagging the drawstring along the way. He finds what he wants and cups and squeezes. 

Keith keens at the attention, grabs Shiro’s wrist and urges him to push further. Shiro digs the heel of his hand in to knead and Keith scrunches his eyes shut. His mouth falls open and Shiro uses the opportunity to bite and suck at his bottom lip before speaking again.

“Let me give it to you,” Shiro’s voice comes out with a natural husk. “Let me make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” Keith’s exhale washes over him, telling of his desire. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Shiro murmurs, and lets go of Keith completely. “Go get what you want, baby.”

Keith ducks out from where he’s standing, and Shiro looks over his shoulder to watch. Keith rummages through Shiro’s nightstand, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he eyes the bed tentatively. Shiro makes no indication that he’s going to move, just stares at Keith as Keith looks up at him.

Keith shuffles back to Shiro, undoing the drawstrings of his sweatpants as he walks towards him. By the time he reaches Shiro, he’s kicked off his pants completely. Shiro expects Keith to corner him, but Keith slips back in between the wall and Shiro. He’s still got his boxers on, and Shiro plucks at the waist band. Keith presses a cool bottle into his hand and gives Shiro an anticipating look.

“Turn,” Shiro says and lets the elastic snap back against skin as Keith obeys. He pushes up Keith’s shirt just enough so that he can get a good look when Keith hooks his thumbs in his boxers and pulls down.

Shiro makes quick work of stretching Keith out, cooing into his ear as he eases finger after finger in till Keith’s got three in him. Keith arches, lifts himself up onto his toes before trying to sit back on Shiro’s hand, hands curling against the wall. There’s an urgency in it that’s translated from their argument from before and Shiro knows he needs to make this one count.

Shiro waits till Keith’s loose and trembling within his hands before he removes his fingers and flips Keith around. Keith fumbles and pops open the button of his jeans, and Shiro pushes his hands away. He unzips and tugs himself out, and starts to slick himself up. The bottle of lube gets shoved into the back pocket of his jeans so that he has a free hand to reach under and keep Keith open. Keith half-moans into his mouth while Shiro keeps moving his fingers, and the friction of Keith’s shirt against Shiro’s bare chest drives him crazy.

Keith tries to reach for him again and Shiro grabs both of Keith’s wrists with one hand. He wrenches them above Keith’s head to pin them against the wall, and withdraws his other hand. He uses it to yank one of Keith’s legs and wrap it around him, pushing it up so it sits above his hip. Shiro takes himself in hand and guides himself, slowly easing in as Keith squirms in his grip, letting out a quiet stream of _ah ah_ fuck _ah—_  as Shiro sinks in further.

Shiro makes it two thirds of the way before letting go of Keith’s wrists. Keith’s hands immediately drop down to Shiro’s shoulders, digging into the muscle as he holds on. Shiro gives him a second before he hoists Keith’s other leg up and pushes in, fully seating himself. He takes the time to watch Keith’s expression, watch him drop his mouth open as he wraps his legs around Shiro. Keith’s told him enough times that he’s big and he’ll need a moment every time Shiro’s in him, and Shiro has to fight hard to not show how satisfied that makes him feel.

“Like this?” Keith asks, and despite the fact that he’s just caught his breath, there’s a challenging cut to Keith’s voice that Shiro picks up on immediately. Shiro chooses not to reply, focusing on making sure his hands are scooped properly under Keith so that his hold is secure before he moves.

Shiro takes one step back, then two, making sure Keith’s completely free from the wall. Keith’s eyes widen as he looks down at Shiro holding him up with no support. As a response, Shiro lifts him off just enough that when Shiro brings Keith down on him, meeting him midway with a thrust that has him shifting on his feet, Keith lets out a surprised yelp that melts into a moan.

“Like this,” Shiro grits out, repeating the move. Keith lefts out a soft _oh_ , and Shiro grins.

They can’t go fast like this, but Shiro wants Keith to feel him all the way through. The situation melts around them, and Shiro’s filled with a desperate need to go at Keith till they both forget they had argued to begin with. Keith tries to kiss him, but ends up clicking their teeth together as Shiro jostles them. Shiro feels fingers claw down his back, hard enough to leave angry red marks, and brings Keith down harder. Keith gives up trying to kiss him, and instead nips at his earlobe as he’s draped over Shiro.

“That’s good,” Keith gasps out against Shiro’s ear. “That feels fucking good, fuck, Shiro—”

Shiro lets out something caught between a grunt and a laugh, heart thrumming as he barely feels the exertion. Keith’s not light, and there’s a small bead of sweat already forming at his forehead, but the adrenaline rush Shiro gets when he beds Keith is more amplified than ever. Keith answers each thrust with an increasingly loud groan; it’s so much easier to get noise out of him nowadays, and it’s made sex infinitely better for Shiro.

Keith swears again as Shiro puts all his energy into fucking up into him hard. Shiro’s arms have started to burn, but it’s worth the sounds Keith makes, worth having Keith cling onto him like he’s needy and desperate for it. It makes Shiro feel powerful, taking Keith apart physically the way Keith takes him apart emotionally. He likes the heat of it, he likes the world narrowing down to just the two of them and Keith looking at him like he’s the only person that exists.

“You should show off more,” Keith cocks half a smile, making no effort to stop his words from slurring together.

“I’m not showing off,” Shiro states, and Keith half-laughs with a “ _sure_ ” that earns him a particularly sharp thrust. Keith babbles his name in between _moremoremoreohgod_ and Shiro’s more than eager to provide. Keith clutches on to him, and Shiro wants to keep fucking him standing up, but thinks he’ll be able to truly fuck Keith senseless if he finds some support again.

Shiro takes the few careful steps he needs to pin Keith against the wall again with a _thud_. He shifts his right arm underneath so that he’s got a more secure hold on Keith, and runs his left hand up Keith’s shirt. He likes the feeling of hard muscle and sweat-slicked skin under his palm, and kisses Keith’s neck as he slides the hand around to Keith’s back, moving him so that Keith’s angled better and can use his shoulders to anchor himself against the wall.

“Want me to show off?” Shiro asks, voice rough in the way he knows will make Keith inhale sharply. Keith tugs at the short hairs at the nape of Shiro’s neck and Shiro leans in to kiss Keith slow and easy. Shiro’s coiled up and ready to spring loose, ready to make good on his show of strength, but he knows it’ll work best if Keith’s gone completely pliant. Keith needs a moment to breathe before Shiro can do his best to turn him into a mess.

Shiro breaks their kiss to lift a palm off Keith and lick it. He reaches in between them and is pleased to see that Keith’s even harder now and has started to drip wet down himself. Shiro starts to pull Keith off in long, firm strokes and plants his mouth against Keith’s as soon as he presses his thumb down. Keith lets out a sharp gasp against Shiro’s mouth and Shiro uses that as an opportunity to slide his tongue in. Keith squeezes his thighs around Shiro and digs his heel into the small of his back, urging him in deeper.

Shiro lets go with his left hand and readjusts, bracing it against the wall. He starts rocking again gently, and Keith scrapes his fingers down the back of Shiro’s neck. Keith’s loose around him already, but Shiro still moves slow, shifting them minutely till Keith makes a sudden noise. It’s what Shiro needs, and he pushes up again to see if Keith lets out that soft grunt again, just to make sure. Keith does, and Shiro takes it as the sign he needs so that he can thrust up harder, pushing Keith further into the wall.

Keith’s still got a crease between his brow that Shiro wants to smooth out, one that he can’t since his hands are occupied. So Shiro seeks out Keith’s neck with tongue and teeth, eager to bite and hold on to Keith, eager to leave a bruise on his neck that lasts for a while. Keith lets out an appreciative hiss and now that Shiro has the anchor and support of the wall again, he’s able to move his hips faster. Keith rolls down onto him just as he snaps up, and their shared moans echo through Shiro’s bedroom.

“Look at me,” Shiro tells Keith, purely because he can tell Keith’s too gone to be able to focus his vision. Shiro drives into him hard enough that he audibly shifts up, the cloth of his shirt dragging up the drywall, and Keith’s eyes glaze over. He squeezes them shut, and Shiro wants to grab his chin and tell him to open them again. Instead, he focuses on making Keith make noise, making him say Shiro’s name like it’s the only thing he knows.

“More,” Keith breathes out,eyes still shut, his voice cracking over the words. “Come on, do it, fuck, more, _more–_ ”

That’s what Shiro’s looking for, and he slides the hand against the wall down. He rearranges himself so that he’s cupping Keith’s ass with both hands and pressing him harder against the wall. It allows Shiro to fuck into Keith at a gruelling pace, putting as much power into it as possible. He licks up the sizeable mark he’s left on Keith’s neck before drawing back to watch Keith. Keith reaches in between them, but Shiro stops for a fraction of a moment to slap his hand away.

“Keep your hands on me,” He instructs, and Keith digs his hands into the meat of Shiro’s shoulders as he resumes. “You’re going to come like this.”

Keith nods, grips Shiro harder, and Shiro decides to lose himself in it. He zeroes in on giving it to Keith like it’s a last meal and feeling Keith come apart around him. Shiro doesn’t let up; tremors run through Keith’s body as Shiro goes at him with an animalistic force. Keith’s entire body tightens around him and the intimacy of it tips both of them over.

Keith comes untouched, making a mess between the two of them as he lets out wet, broken moans. Shiro says Keith’s name in tandem, the rough edges to his voice getting sharper as he meets his own end in Keith. When Shiro comes, he scrunches his eyes shut so hard he sees stars behind them. He thinks he says Keith’s name, but his head’s flooded with too much sensation for him to be aware.

It takes them longer to come down from this high. Shiro’s heart beats in his throat and he swallows down huge gulps of air to find some semblance of calm. Keith tries to say something about needing a shower again, but he cuts himself off to catch his breath. With the remaining strength he has, he hoists Keith off the wall, off of him, and marches them across the room to his bed. Keith’s legs shake slightly when Shiro sets him down and Keith holds onto him, sliding his hands from his shoulders to his biceps. Shiro envelopes Keith in a hug, exhaustion settling in to his own arms.

“Let’s save the talking for tomorrow,” Shiro says quietly. “Maybe the shower too.”

Keith laughs and buries his head further under Shiro’s chin. Shiro plants a kiss in the hair before guiding them onto the bed, reaching to turn down the lights with the dimmer by his bed. He steps out of his jeans and kicks them away, and pulls Keith’s shirt off of him so that they’re both naked.

The skin on skin contact is welcome, even after they’ve turned themselves sweaty and sticky. Despite the fact that they’re both clearly tired, there’s a faint flicker of something urgent still within Shiro. He pushes Keith onto his back and crawls over him, kissing him and sliding a hand between his legs to feel how much of a mess they’ve made.It’s slick and tempting, but Keith makes an oversensitive sound once Shiro brushes his fingers over him, seeing how well his body can still give.

Shiro decides not to follow through in the end, thinking he’s done a fairly decent job in putting Keith through his paces. He keeps kissing Keith, but doesn’t resist when Keith pushes at him and starts manhandling them till Shiro’s on his side and Keith’s tucked up against his chest like an octopus. He’s hot like a radiator, always is, but that’s never stopped Keith from wrapping himself around Shiro when they’ve calmed down.

When they’ve both managed to even their breathing, Shiro pushes Keith’s overgrown bangs off his face and kisses his forehead.

“I’m proud of you,” Shiro tells him honestly. “Whatever you end up doing.”

Keith smiles, small and quiet and tucks himself further into Shiro.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s job isn’t brought up again. They leave for Altea Tech on a Friday, catching a flight that lands them late at night. Shiro normally takes a small room on a lower floor because he hates having too much space during these trips, but Keith’s with him this time. His fingers had twitched as he thought about booking the penthouse suite for the fun of it, but Keith had told him to go with what he was most comfortable with.

“Anything over three floors is luxurious for me,” Keith had said, so Shiro’s settled for a smaller prestige room instead.

The room’s still large, laid out like a studio apartment, with an excessively large bed as its centrepiece. They enter the room as Shiro tells Keith he’ll try to take him somewhere more romantic for their next trip together, and Keith ignores him in favour of dropping his duffle-bag on the floor and doing a running dive onto the bed. He lands with a bounce and proceeds to starfish onto the bed with a happy groan.

Shiro sets his luggage down and pulls off his overcoat, kicking off his shoes as he walks towards the bed. He crawls on top of Keith, and Keith tries to yank him down into a kiss. Shiro follows, but avoids Keith’s mouth in favour of nuzzling his nose into Keith’s neck and flattening out into dead weight onto Keith’s body. He gives an exaggerated snore, and doesn’t let Keith shove him off for a good five minutes.

They order pizza from the nearest place still open, and mess around lazily till it gets there. It’s a quiet night because they have an extremely early morning, and Shiro pretends he doesn’t see Keith scroll through an email confirmation for a meeting as they brush their teeth.

The same way, he doesn’t ask Keith why he’s dressed up in a clean pressed shirt and dark slacks when they get ready in the morning when Shiro’s just wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. He knows Allura’s going to kick Keith out of the room five minutes after Shiro goes under anyways, and is only going to let him back in five minutes before Shiro wakes up. Shiro’s not going to ask Keith what he plans on doing in that time, so he just fixes Keith’s tie for him, smooths back his hair, and makes him wear Shiro’s watch.

“You want to leave a good impression,” Shiro says when Keith tries to protest, leaving out the part where he has no intention of taking the Rolex back. Keith looks almost as nervous as Shiro feels, and Shiro somewhat regrets that _this_ is the first trip they’ve taken together.

Going in to get his arm fixed and upgraded always leaves Shiro in a weird headspace. He trusts Allura and her team, and counts his blessings every day that he’s gotten a prosthetic that feels and functions like a flesh-and-blood arm. Every upgrade Allura’s made to it has made it better, including the ones she sneaks in under her father’s nose. It doesn’t stop Shiro from being nervous as hell as their driver pulls up to the concrete steps leading up to the pristine white building of Altea Tech.

Having Keith beside him does dull the butterflies in his stomach though. Keith looks around in awe as they go in through the glass doors. Shiro always feels like he’s stepping on to a movie set when he enters the building for Altea. It’s large and airy, coloured in clean cobalts and sharp ivories, and too brightly lit for anyone to notice the overcast weather outside.

“Impressive, right?” Shiro nudges Keith, who’s staring up at the large strings of crystals suspended from the ceiling. Keith gives a vague sound as an answer, and Shiro doesn’t blame him. The building’s something out of a utopian science fiction; ads play across behemoth screens, projecting their products out as three dimensional objects into the space in front of them, and there are helpful holograms set up to act as information booths. Keith puts a hand through one of the holograms and it turns an alarmingly red colour, and he digs his hands in his pockets and jumps ten steps ahead of Shiro.

Allura insists that none of it is functionality and all of it is flair, and when she inherits it she’s either going to strip it to make it look like a warehouse or make it obnoxiously pink. Keith’s got time to get a full tour later when Shiro’s knocked out and getting his arm tweaked, so they make a beeline for the elevators.

Once that they start administering the anesthesia, the entire day is going to go by in a slightly extended blink for Shiro. He’s nervous about things going wrong when he’s under, despite how capable Allura and her team are, despite the fact that he’s never had anything go south since Altea had approached him with a better model for a prosthetic than the heavy, rigid one he previously had from their competitor. He’s significantly better now than he was before; he doesn’t have to take anything for his anxiety on his flight, and his grandfather doesn’t have to make the trek out to Altea, no matter how many times he insists that it’s not a burden on him, especially when Shiro’s paying for his trip.

Shiro knows he’s holding himself up with unnecessary rigidity, because Keith raises his hand to rest it on the small of Shiro’s back. He starts rubbing a small circle with his thumb while looking straight ahead. When Shiro lets go of some of the stiffness in his posture, Keith’s arm snakes around his waist to hold onto him.

Shiro’s got a direct access card for Allura’s lab, and he swipes it as soon as they get in the elevator. As soon as the door closes, Keith’s turning on Shiro, hands on his hips and pulling him close. Shiro indulges, does it as much for Keith as he does it for himself. By the time the door opens on one of the uppermost floors, Shiro’s feeling kiss bitten and significantly more relaxed. He thinks he manages to school his face into something neutral by the time the receptionist lets them in, but by the flat but amused look she gives them when they walk in, he’s failed.

As much as she makes fun of her father for modelling his office building after his favourite books, Allura’s built her lab after one of her favourite superhero movies. She’ll deny it vehemently but Shiro recognizes the floorplan. Every time he teases her about it, she tells she’s going to remotely make his hand slap him at random intervals of the day. Allura tries to make the operating table as comfortable as possible, but Shiro still feels stiff when he’s in here. There’s already a chair beside the one he’ll have to recline on when he’s put under. Shiro pulls off his sweater, and one of Allura’s assistants whisk it away right as Keith reaches for it. The long surgical table glints under the lights, and Keith looks uneasily at the row of instruments set up along the side. He dutifully takes his seat as Shiro flops down on his own chair in a misplaced attempt at appearing casual.

“Easy,” Allura scolds, as if the chair hasn’t been through worse. “Or I’ll make you pay for it.”

Shiro’s about to retort, but he feels something brush against his left hand. Keith’s intertwining their fingers together, and squeezes Shiro’s hand. He’s got a determined look on his face, one that quells Shiro’s nerves and amuses him with how ardent it is.

“Good luck with your meeting today,” Shiro tells Keith, and Keith gives him a tight smile, watching as an assistant rolls in a small steel cabinet. Two others start hooking up Shiro to a series of screens to watch his vitals. “Remember, you’ve already got the offer.”

“I heard about that,” Allura pipes up as she inspects a monitor. “You should have told me you were applying. I could have put in a good word.”

“They already like him,” Shiro says, but Allura shrugs.

“I’m important,” She informs him, and Shiro makes a mental note to stop letting Lance field calls from her. One of the technicians places a mask over Shiro for the anesthesia, and Keith’s grip on his hands grows deathly. Allura catches it, and raises her eyebrows.

“Careful,” She tells Keith. “Or he’ll need another one.”

Keith drops Shiro’s hand like it’s hot, and Allura laughs out loud. He looks reprimanded and goes a little pink, and Shiro tries to take his hand back. He can’t find it when he reaches for it, and doesn’t know what else to do with his own hand. Shiro flashes a thumb up instead, and can practically hear how hard Allura rolls her eyes.

“You can hold his hand,” Allura says, walking up to them. She places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and he immediately goes rigid. Given how aware Allura is, Shiro’s pretty sure she’s doing her best to mess a little with Keith. Keith makes no move to take Shiro’s hand, but Allura clears her throat and he grabs at it like it’s a fish in water.

“Good boy,” She ruffles Keith’s hair, and Shiro’s painfully reminded of Alfor in the moment. He lolls his head to the side to properly look at Keith, and Keith raises Shiro’s hand up and brushes the knuckles with his lips. It’s a tender gesture, one that Shiro wants to desperately return in the moment. Shiro gets a bubbling feeling again, one that he feels more and more when he’s around Keith. Something threatens to spill out of Shiro, but the anesthesiologist starts counting back from ten.

There’s soft pressure against his forehead, and the last thing Shiro registers is the comfort of having Keith beside him.

 

* * *

 

The weather’s barely holding up by the time Allura officially discharges Shiro from her lab. As expected, he had woken up groggily with Keith beside him. Shiro thinks he might have tried to cup Keith’s cheek lovingly and had instead grabbed Keith’s face with one large hand. Allura’s got a picture of it, and Keith’s already changed his cellphone background. Shiro normally hangs around for a few hours after with a technician to babysit him, but Allura gives Keith the okay to whisk Shiro away an hour after he wakes up.

“It normally wears off fast for him,” He hears her tell Keith as Keith helps Shiro into his sweater. “But he’s not going to have energy for a little while, so take it easy.”

“I just need to sleep it off,” Shiro tells Keith once, twice, then three times before Keith runs a hand through his hair and kisses him gently to shut him up in between calling their car to the front steps of Altea. Someone gives Shiro a glass of water and Allura jokes about how his arm will grow sentient if they keep their rate of progress steady. Shiro laughs a little loudly at this, and he’s sure he doesn’t imagine the fond look Keith gives him while he’s on the phone.

Keith shuffles him towards the elevator, letting Shiro rest as much of his weight against as him as he wants to. The brightness of the main atrium sends pinpricks through Shiro’s forehead, but Shiro finds himself getting pulled outside and then hustled into the back of a car with a thankfully dark interior.

“Tell me about your meeting,” Shiro asks Keith as their driver weaves through the beginning of rush hour traffic. He’s got Keith’s hand in his lap and keeps clasping and unclasping it to see how his own thick and clumsy fingers look around it.

“It went well,” Keith tells him, watching Shiro with amusement. “They said that it was good that they got to meet me in person. Said they liked me a lot.”

“Of course,” Shiro says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s nothing to not like about you.”

“There’s plenty,” Keith laughs, and Shiro frowns. “You’re just hopped up right now.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Shiro says sagely. “I’ll say it again when I’m back to normal.”

Keith doesn’t say anything after that, but the soft smile doesn’t leave his face. Shiro wants to kiss it off, but also doesn’t want to move at the moment, so he resigns himself to waiting till they get to their hotel. Keith lets him kiss him in the elevator, in the hall, and then as soon as the door closes behind them. Keith starts guiding them backwards, pulling Shiro’s sweater off and dropping it on top of the couch. He tugs at Shiro’s shirt, pulling it off before he undoes his jeans and pulls them down, leaving Shiro in his boxers. Shiro’s pleased at this turn of events, and tries groping Keith as the back of his knees hit the mattress. Keith bends down to yank away the quilts before getting Shiro to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Down,” Keith presses his palm against Shiro’s chest and pushes, and the world tilts for Shiro as he finds himself on his back. He waits for Keith to crawl on top of him so that they can resume, but Keith grabs his legs and swings them over the mattress before pulling the quilt over Shiro.

He feels both indignant and instantly drowsy under the weight of the quilt. Keith disappears out of his sight for a moment, but reappears in only his briefs as he slides in on the other side of the bed. Shiro rolls onto his side so that he can tug Keith on top of him, but he doesn’t have enough energy for how well Keith seems to be planting himself down in the mattress.

“Baby,” Shiro says in protest, and Keith kisses the corner of his mouth before sliding a hand under Shiro. He turns Shiro over his side and throws a leg over Shiro’s waist, pressing his bare chest against Shiro’s back.

“Sleep first,” Keith tells Shiro as he settles in. Shiro wants to tell Keith he’s fine, that he doesn’t need to sleep and that he’s ready to go, but his head starts to feel heavy as it registers just how much their bed feels like a cloud. Keith is a warm and secure presence behind him, running his fingers through Shiro’s hair again, circling them as they massage his scalp. It’s significantly more comfortable than sleeping it off alone in a friendly but sterile room in Altea, and Shiro lets sleep take over him quickly.

 

* * *

 

A deep, rumbling crack wakes Shiro up a couple of hours later. The rain’s hammering down against the window of their room, and his head feels significantly clearer. He feels better rested than he has in a while, and he figures it might have something to do with the warm solid presence nestled beside him. Shiro’s rolled onto his back, and Keith must have shifted away for breathing space, but still has one arm slung over Shiro’s chest.

Shiro rolls onto his side to see if Keith’s woken up, but he continues to snore softly. Keith’s face is relaxed, but even in his sleep, his brow has a faintly furrowed look. Shiro teases about Keith looking like he wants to murder someone by default, but Shiro thinks he’s truly lethal when he’s like this, silhouetted softly by the grey light of the early evening storm. He reaches to push off his bangs from his forehead, and Keith mumbles something in his sleep, turning his head to place a kiss against his palm. Keith stays like that and Shiro realizes he’s still asleep.

As quietly as possible, he slips out of bed and makes a beeline for the shower. He doubts that Keith will join him, but he leaves the door unlocked anyways as he turns on the hot water. He stands under it until his skin’s left pink, mind completely blank while he lets the smell of the lab rinse off of him. A few minutes later he hears the door open and gives a lazy smile as Keith slides the glass door of the stall and steps in.

“Feeling better?” Keith asks, ducking his head under the water to get his hair wet. He slicks it back and looks up at Shiro, and Shiro shrugs.

“Still tired,” He replies honestly, reaching for one of the bottles on the shelf of the stall. He drips shampoo into Keith’s hair, and thinks about kissing him as he rubs a lather into his hair. He leaves it, and brings Keith closer to himself so that he gets more of the water to rinse off.

Keith returns the favour, and turns Shiro around to soap his back. He presses a feather-light kiss at the top of Shiro’s spine before following it with his hand, massaging small circles in between his shoulder blades. Shiro finds himself melting under the touch and leans back. Keith wraps his arms around his waist, and they stand like that under the hot spray for a few minutes while Keith whispers things into Shiro’s skin that he can’t quite hear.

The room’s a lot darker when they’ve finished and dried off, and Shiro feels familiar laziness take over him. He’s thought about booking them nice dinner reservations, maybe taking Keith out somewhere nice tomorrow after his second round of checkups. If the weather keeps up like this though, lavish room service and spending the evening in bed seems a lot more appealing.

“We should probably draw the curtains,” Shiro starts, but feels a hand on his shoulder. It pulls him down onto the bed, and pins him onto the plush mattress. Keith slides one leg over Shiro, straddling him. Shiro looks up and can see sharp intent in Keith’s eyes.

Keith leans in to kiss Shiro, cupping his face with his free hand. Shiro barely moves his lips, letting Keith guide him into it. Keith moves his mouth slowly, soft, and knowing but not insisting. Keith’s lips are dry from how scalding hot they ran the shower, but the pressure still comforts Shiro. Keith draws back to let them breathe, and Shiro closes his eyes.

“I don’t have a lot of energy,” He says gently, and Keith takes his hand, intertwining their fingers together. They’re only in their boxers, and Shiro’s thankful for the skin-on-skin contact. “You’re gonna have to take whatever you want yourself.”

“I just want to take care of you,” Keith says as he runs his free hand across Shiro’s collar bone. “Let’s take it easy.”

The hand travels down, brushing over Shiro’s chest, gentle enough that the calloused palm tickles. Keith bends down to follow it with his mouth, and Shiro feels a foreign twitch in his right arm that makes him open his eyes. It’s a common occurrence after his visits to Altea but he has the same reaction to it every time. Keith must sense the way his muscles tense because he stops kissing Shiro and starts to draw back.

“It’s okay, it happens,” Shiro says, and plants his left hand on Keith’s hip to keep him on Shiro. “Stay. I just need a moment.”

Keith sits up; the light from bright advertisement on the face of the neighbouring building shines in through the grey of the rain, reflecting softly off of his face and damp hair in whites and pinks. He looks down at Shiro with an indiscernible expression, and Shiro watches as the lights change colour. His chest feels heavy at the sight, and it takes Shiro less than a moment to know that the sight of Keith sitting atop of him like this is gutting him in the best way possible. It makes him feel honest, makes him want to be honest.

“Whatever you do, I’ll be beside you if you want me there,” He tells Keith. “The distance doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure we work.”

“Will you?” Keith asks, and Shiro nods. Keith’s face goes contemplative then tentative, and Shiro wonders for how long he’s been able to pick up on Keith’s little visual tells. “Can I tell you something?”

Shiro nods, and Keith gives him a searching look before steeling himself. His fist curls in Shiro’s chest, and he starts to frown like he’s second-guessing himself. A small pang of worry echoes within Shiro, but before he can act on it, Keith speaks.

“I don’t know what to do about the job yet,” Keith says slowly, hesitantly. “Because I love you. A lot, Shiro, to the point where I won’t be able to tell what’s a sacrifice and what’s not.”

It’s not a surprise to Shiro, but hearing it still knocks the air clean out of his lungs. They’re not shy nor have they held back with each other, but he’s never heard Keith articulate it like this before. He hasn’t heard him say it in a way that’s so anchored down in their reality. It’s almost laughable that they’ve gone so far, done so much without explicitly stating it and just accepting it as a silent, underlying truth.

Keith’s waiting for him, so Shiro uses whatever energy he has left to push off the bed and sit up just enough that Keith understands and meets him halfway.

“You too,” He says in between the kisses, wanting to make sure Keith knows. “I love you too. I love you, baby. I love you, Keith.”

It feels like, and has always felt like an old love hidden within the flame of a new one. Keith moves Shiro onto his back again, and moves his mouth against him with more intensity. Keith flattens out against Shiro’s chest, and the friction between their bare skin sends a warmth through Shiro that’s bone deep. Keith peppers kisses across Shiro’s jaw and down his neck, moving his hands gently across Shiro’s body. He rests them on Shiro’s stomach, tracing the ridges of the muscle.

Shiro makes a content sound, and he feels a rough hand drift down lower. Keith gently palms him over his boxers, and Shiro lets out a short gasp at the contact. Keith grasps him over the cloth before pushing his heel in, and Shiro shudders lightly.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and Keith looks up at him.

Keith reads Shiro well and starts to pull at his underwear. It slides off easily, and Keith makes quick work of his own before leaning over to the nightstand. Shiro had informed Keith prior to the trip that they wouldn’t have the opportunity nor would he have the energy to get too athletic, and Keith had set down a bottle of lube on the table beside their bed with determination anyways.

It’s proving useful now, because Keith sits himself in between Shiro’s legs, lifting them so they’re resting on his thighs. Keith slicks them both up, giving extra time and attention to Shiro as he circles him with his coated hand. It’s firm and hot, and Keith moves his fingers around Shiro in a way that has Shiro’s back arching slightly. He’s tempted to roll onto his belly and let Keith take him, but Keith keeps him pinned down against the mattress.

“Easy,” He murmurs, shifting a slick hand to Shiro’s hip and massaging in a circle. “We can do that tomorrow.”

True to his promise of keeping it simple, Keith slots their hips together and takes them both in hand. He thrusts gently, and Shiro bucks against it, chasing the wetness and the heat. Keith leaves no distance in between their bodies, making sure that he’s touching as much of Shiro as possible. Keith rocks them at an unhurried pace, taking time to grasp and squeeze where Shiro needs it, saying his name in a low voice when Shiro responds eagerly.

The hand that’s been gripping Keith’s back shifts up to card fingers through dark hair. Keith tips his face down and makes sure to kiss Shiro as he starts to drip onto Shiro’s lower abdomen. He nips gently on Keith’s bottom lip, and Keith speeds up the hand he has around the two of them.

They come quietly, Keith swallowing up the groan Shiro shapes around his name with a kiss. They lay there for a moment with their foreheads pressed together, their breathing syncing up. Keith gathers himself enough to reach for a discarded pair of boxers and wipe them both down. He throws the garment off to the side and slides off Shiro, sinking into the mattress beside him. He links their fingers again, and raises Shiro’s hand to graze his lips gently over the knuckles.

Keith was the first one to verbalize it, but Shiro’s known it, known since the day he picked Keith up off the pavement that he’d be floored in a way he had never experienced before. Shiro’s worked incredibly hard for almost everything in his life; this is the one thing that has come relatively easy to him, and he has no idea how he’s lucked out like this.

Shiro lolls his head to the side to look at Keith, whose eyes are half-lidded as he’s already dozing off and thinks, _This is the man that loves me_ . _This is the man I love_.

 

* * *

 

 

When they land back in their city on Monday morning, Shiro’s feeling significantly more well rested than he has been for a while. The gloomy weather had kept up the entire weekend, so they holed up in the hotel room after Shiro’s second round at Altea. Shiro turned his phone off for a few hours and let Keith lay him out and behave in every single way that he knows Shiro likes. It’s made Shiro realize that he’s overdue for a proper vacation and wants to suggest one to Keith before he moves across the country for Altea.

Keith has yet to formally accept the offer from Altea; he has till the end of the week to do so. They’re normally not this generous, but Allura’s had a chat with the hiring manager about some leeway for Keith. Shiro tells Keith to accept it right away, but Keith gets a far away look and cuts the conversation short when he brings it up. He won’t explain why to Shiro, but Shiro knows when not to press. He doesn’t worry either, because he has faith in Keith to make the right decision.

He gets a text from Keith midweek telling him to come over immediately after work because he’s got some good news to share. Shiro assumes it’s him accepting the position at Altea, and tells Lance to go buy a bottle of Dom Perignon during lunch. As good measure, he also makes a reservation at an upscale Japanese restaurant for later in the night, after he’s properly congratulated Keith. He debates getting Keith a small gift as well, but decides to save it for the weekend where he can buy something large and expensive and not on the fly.

Shiro’s buzzing by the time he gets off work and heads to Keith’s apartment. He’s shoved all thoughts of the impending distance to the back of his head in favour of the excitement that comes with seeing someone close to him succeed. The first thing Keith does when he opens the door is pounce on Shiro. He envelopes Shiro in a bone-crushing hug, and Shiro has to pry him off for a moment so he can drop his things on the ground and give him a proper hug back. Keith slides his arms down just enough that Shiro finds himself getting lifted up off his feet. His eyes widen as he lets out a surprised laugh, and when he looks down, Keith’s beaming up at him.

“I’m not going to Altea,” He says happily, and confusion hits Shiro like a bat. Keith’s looking way too excited about it, so he waits for him to continue before he can give him a bewildered “ _What_?”.

Keith spins Shiro enthusiastically before dropping him down on his feet. Shiro gives him a tentative kiss to hopefully temper him enough so that Keith can provide an explanation. Keith grabs his face and returns it eagerly, to the point where Shiro has to push him off before they accidentally hurt themselves.

“What do you mean?” He asks Keith, because Keith looks excessively happy for someone who’s passed up a giant career opportunity. He tries to keep a smile plastered to his face because Keith looks like he’s ready to bounce of the walls, but Shiro’s feeling increasingly more nervous.

“Look at this,” Keith lets go of Shiro and brandishes his phone in his face.  “I told you I’d find a way.”

Shiro has to grab Keith’s wrist to keep him steady so that he can read what’s on the screen. When he does, it’s definitely not what Shiro expected. He can’t help but break out into a smile himself and scoop Keith into an extremely enthusiastic hug.

“No way,” Shiro grins down at Keith, and Keith wriggles his brows. Shiro takes the phone and scrolls, and Keith hums happily and buries his face in the front of Shiro’s shirt. Shiro doesn’t bother asking how, because it’s Keith— capable, smart, intelligent, _his_. The further he reads through the email, the more his excitement from earlier in the day seems muted. It’s incomparable to what he feels right now, what the letter Keith’s received means for them.

  
“Yeah,” Keith says. “I _told_ you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t feel like I need to put this warning because this story’s never pretended to be something it’s not but warning…things are gonna get SUPER mushy and refractory periods are probably going to get just a little unrealistic

**TWO YEARS LATER**

 

 

It’s been a shit day, and Shiro doesn’t see himself leaving the office anytime soon. There is a high possibility that he might even die here.

He tries his best not to have more than one or two drinks at work. It’s usually when he’s trying to appear friendly, amiable, or extremely intimidating to whatever guest he’s entertaining. However, he’s been pouring over a financial forecast for the past two hours, wondering what the hell he was thinking before he wrote it out. He’s got a stack of reports sitting in front of him that he’s using as a coaster for the third glass of single-malt that he’s been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. It’s not that he needs it to get through his work— the faint burn just helps him not put his head through his computer repeatedly.

This week’s stretched out endlessly, and Shiro almost shed a tear when he saw that it was only Wednesday. It’s times like these that he wonders how life would be like if his ambition didn’t travel at the speed of a rocket. Probably quieter, but significantly less interesting. Shiro probably wouldn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the glittering city that he can stand in front of and stare out from like he’s a troubled character in an AMC show. He definitely wouldn’t be able to soak his troubles in a bottle of whiskey that costs three bills, and he probably wouldn’t be able to call a five star French restaurant for takeout embellished as “catering”.

The light on his desk phone flickers red, and he looks at the screen blearily. It says the call is from Lance’s desk at the front, and Shiro frowns because he had dismissed Lance a little over ten minutes ago. He lets it ring through a full cycle while he contemplates ignoring it, but the shrill tone doesn’t let up. Sighing, he picks up the receiver.

“Yes?” He asks briskly, hoping Lance can hear the implied _why are you calling me from your desk phone when I told you to go home ten minutes ago so that I can blast aggressively bad music in the office while tearing through work_ in his voice.

“There’s someone at the front waiting for you,” Lance replies. “I’ve been trying to tell them multiple times that they can’t go in without an appointment, especially at the end of the day.”

“What?” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose and runs his hand through his hair.

“They’re awfully stubborn,” Lance informs him. “Won’t take no for an answer. Says it’s important.”

“God,” Shiro drags his hand over his face and closes his eyes. He’s had a large spate of clients and partners that have decided to make unannounced visits in the past few days. It’s less to do with anything related to work and more to do with them wanting to casually bring up that they spotted the two page spread he received in a national publication’s “Top 40 Under 40” special. Shiro appreciates the congratulations, but he’s also trying to crunch a massive amount of work in a short amount of time and not have the white in his hair spread.

He’s tempted to turn the visitor away, but when he opens his eyes, he sees the four giant spreadsheets on the screen that he’s been trudging through. Shiro knows that he needs to keep plowing through his work so that he can go back to his real home and not sleep on the couch, but his brain also needs to decompress a little. If this person’s a headache, at least they’ll be a different kind of headache.

“Send them in,” Shiro sighs, and Lance chirps a confirmation. “Wait, who is it?”

Lance hangs up a full three seconds after Shiro asks the question and Shiro stares at his phone for three more. He hooks the receiver back on and contemplates what HR employee workshop would annoy Lance the most if Shiro made it mandatory for him to attend. Shiro picks up his glass and drains it, wiping the condensation off the manila folders it had been sitting on. He hides his glass in a drawer just as there are three large, clear knocks on the door. Shiro schools his face into something fairly pleasant, calls out “Enter”, and stands up as the door opens.

“Fire your assistant,” Keith says as he strides in, wearing the face of someone who’s been subjected to Lance’s ribbing for more than five minutes. It’s the tenth time he’s said it this month alone, despite the fact that it has no real heat beside it.

Shiro’s thinking about approximately none of this; instead, he feels some of the stress melt out of him slowly upon seeing Keith’s face three days before he had expected to.

“You landed early?” He asks, circling around his desk so that he can close the distance between them.

“Looks like it,” Keith grins, and opens his arms. Shiro sweeps him up in a crushing hug, one where he squeezes his arms around Keith as tightly as possible. “Got a few of my last meetings cut, and I had a choice between hanging around and coming home.”

“Should have stayed,” Shiro leans back so that he can kiss the tip of Keith’s nose. “You need a vacation.”

They both do. Every time Shiro had called Keith, both of them were equally exhausted. In the past few days, they’ve been able to catch a few minutes with each other over the phone, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

“That’s why no one needs to know I’m here till tomorrow,” Keith places his hands on Shiro’s biceps and squeezes. “Wow, these feel bigger.”

“Tomorrow morning or tomorrow evening?” Shiro asks, and tries to shrug off Keith’s increasingly tighter grip. “It’s only been two weeks, they’re the same.”

“Uh huh,” Keith says without specifying which. He cups Shiro’s face and pulls him in for a proper greeting that Shiro relaxes into. Idly, he circles a thumb across the soft silk of Keith’s grey dress shirt as they stand in the middle of Shiro’s office. He bought it for Keith last month, just because he liked how the material felt under his hands. It’s the first time Keith’s worn it since then, and Shiro was right in guessing he’d have a deep appreciation for how Keith feels in it.

“Did you dress like this on the plane?” Shiro teases him when they break apart, and Keith shakes his head.

“I actually landed in the afternoon,” Keith informs him. “I was going to surprise you when you got home, but you weren’t coming home, so I thought I’d come surprise you here.”

Shiro’s not going to complain, especially since he hadn’t been planning on going home for a while. There’s a thick plush throw on the sofa in his office that’s acted as a blanket more often than not over the past few days, but now he’ll have someone to drag him back home.

He captures Keith in another kiss, long and slow and sweet. Business trips are nothing new for either of them, but he still feels happy when he gets to see Keith after a while. The plus side to either of them travelling for work is the enthusiastic reunion they have when they’re back. Keith says his name somewhere in the middle, and Shiro keeps moving his lips against his Keith’s until the headache from before has fully subsided.

“Woah,” Keith breathes when he pulls back. His bottom lip is slick and red and Shiro leans in to give it one last, tiny peck. “Missed you too.”

“It’s been a long day,” Shiro explains, running a hand up Keith’s back. “Want food? I still have leftovers.”

“Nope,” Keith pops the _p_ and starts fiddling with Shiro’s collar, trying to straighten it out. He leans up to kiss Shiro’s chin, keeps fiddling with the collar. Shiro’s about to angle for another kiss when he realizes that Keith’s not trying to straighten his collar. He’s trying to undo it, and has already loosened up Shiro’s tie enough to start pulling it out of its knot.

“Hey,” Shiro grabs Keith’s wrists, and Keith gives him an innocent look. “I still have work to do.”

“Take a break,” Keith slides his hands easily out of Shiro’s hold and reaches around to dig his hands into Shiro’s back pockets.  “Look at it later with a clearer head.”

Shiro removes Keith’s hands and crosses them over his front, ignoring Keith’s put out expression. He gives Keith the same look he gives when he’s reprimanding someone in the office, but remembers too late that Keith likes it when Shiro tries to be firm with him.

“Keith,” He says. “I’m here to work. Wait till we get home.”

Keith’s here, so Shiro knows he’s got motivation to finish his work as fast as possible. He also knows he’s an idiot if he thinks that Keith’s going to let him off easy.

“Shiro,” Keith replies mockingly, predictably. “I'm here to get laid.”

It’s blunt enough to take Shiro by surprise, and Keith takes advantage. He puts his hands on Shiro’s chest and starts guiding Shiro back to his desk. The back of Shiro’s thighs hit his desk, and he quickly maneuvers out Keith’s hold. Keith lets him go easily and follows Shiro as Shiro sits down on his chair.

“What if I wanted to hear about your trip?” Shiro asks, and Keith wastes no time in sliding on top of Shiro’s lap and straddling him. He slips his legs through the space of the arm rests, effectively locking Shiro in with his body. He shifts so that they’re slotted up against each other with no gap to move.

Keith grabs the sides of the head of the chair and uses it to anchor himself as he leans in to kiss Shiro. It’s got the familiar wet heat that Shiro’s never going to get tired of, and he finds his hands moving of their own volition. They hook their thumbs into the belt loops of Keith’s pants as Keith licks into his mouth. Shiro can taste the faint peppermint and knows he hasn’t stood a chance since Keith walked into his office.

“It was good,” Keith plucks at Shiro’s shirt and starts undoing the top buttons. “Ate a lot. Landed the deal that I needed to, and then some. Daydreamed about coming home and getting nailed properly by my boyfriend as a reward. Kinda hoping to make it a reality.”

“Yeah?” Shiro fights hard not to grin wide, and he knows Keith can tell. “What did he say when you asked him?”

“He said no,” Keith deadpans, and Shiro lets out a short laugh. Keith’s finished undoing the front of Shiro’s shirt, and starts working on undoing the buckle of his belt. “Why do you think I came to you?”

Keith starts laying kisses across Shiro’s jawline, starting from under his ear and making it to the tip of his chin before he bites it. Shiro ducks his head so that he can initiate another kiss. He plays with Keith a little, biting his lip and pulling back till Keith follows with his whole body. Shiro places his hands on Keith’s hips and rolls Keith against him. The friction has some of Keith’s cockiness slipping from his face as Shiro makes him move in an excruciatingly slow and controlled pace on his lap.

“I missed you,” Shiro says against Keith’s mouth, and Keith gives a small groan as Shiro shifts his hips up a little. “But I do have a lot of work. And we’re at my office.”

It’s a useless point to make because Shiro has already started to slide his hand past Keith’s waistband. He digs out the shirt just enough that he can slip back in to feel warm skin, fingers digging into the soft muscle. Keith answers by wrapping his hand around the back of Shiro’s head. He tugs and Shiro follows, getting a sharp inhale of Keith’s cologne before he places a wet kiss against his Adam’s apple. He licks his lips before he kisses Keith’s neck, sucking light marks in so he has something to look at when they’re pressing each other into the mattress at home later tonight.

“You say that everytime,” Keith says as he starts to push Shiro’s shirt apart. “But then you do your best to make it so that I can’t walk or talk till the next day.”

Shiro stills for the briefest moment and feels his face start to heat up. It’s crude, and Shiro always gets a little embarrassed when Keith picks up on his propensity to get intense. Shiro can't help the fact that Keith fits perfectly against him, that he's got a lean, rugged look with a challenge in his eyes that Shiro always wants to fuck out of him. Shiro can't help that Keith taps into something primal in him, something that makes him want to show off his strength like a caveman.

“So what’s it gonna be, Shirogane?” Keith draws, drawing back and levelling Shiro with an absolutely wicked look. “What one do you want to do to me today?”

Behind Keith, Shiro can see the stacks of folders waiting for him to flip through them. He's still got a significant amount of work to do, and a string of meetings tomorrow that he needs to attempt to prepare for. Shiro knows he can't afford to get distracted too much if he wants to do all that he needs to do _and_ get a humane amount of sleep. But Keith is willing and tempting and faintly Shiro wonders if he can get Keith to give him a blowjob while he tries to edit a financial overview for the company. That thought alone blows away any sort of rational reasoning that’s left in Shiro's head.

“Both,“ Shiro replies finally, and Keith makes an extremely satisfied noise. Shiro plants his feet on the ground to keep his chair in place as Keith shifts and slides off Shiro’s lap and down between his legs.

 

* * *

 

 

Asking Keith to move in with him has been the best decision Shiro’s made.

In between trying to keep his head above hot water in Gamara and getting pulled towards Altea, Keith had sent off a wishful application to one of the city’s top startups. He had applied for a position that was higher than anything that he had done before, higher than what had been offered to him at Altea. Keith had thought it was a longshot from the time they called to set an interview, up until he had received an email with a formal job offer. Even though the company wasn’t as big and prestigious as Altea or Gamara, Keith had grabbed it with both hands and had put in his two weeks almost immediately. Even though the job’s been significantly more challenging than anything Keith’s done before, he’s managed to excel at it. Importantly for Shiro, he’s not moved across the country. Instead, he’s moved into Shiro’s apartment.

It wasn’t too hard for Shiro to ask him. Keith already had a spare key, and spent an increasingly large amount of time at Shiro’s place. It had gotten to the point where a majority of his wardrobe hung in Shiro’s closet and Keith’s toothbrush in his own apartment was a spare. Shiro had formally asked Keith when they reached their one year anniversary, and Keith had pretended to think about it for a moment as if the shoebox he rented provided any real competition to a two-story loft. Keith had packed up quickly and moved in, and Shiro put Keith’s bed into a spare room on the first floor. They gave it one last, very thorough goodbye before stretching new sheets over it and taking the old ones up to the master bedroom.

Now that they officially live together, Shiro basks in the constant presence of Keith being there. Even if Keith’s not home, Shiro likes seeing the sweater he left thrown over the armchair or the objectively disgusting grapefruit juice Keith keeps in the fridge. Any small tics or quirks is largely overshadowed by the fact that he can wake up next to Keith, that he gets to come home to Keith, that he can hang out with his best friend and press him against the counter whenever he wants, kissing him senseless without having to travel across town to do so.

So all things considered, asking Keith formally to move in has been the best decision Shiro has made. So far.

But there’s a ring that’s been burning a hole in his pocket for the past two months and if Shiro’s lucky enough, it’ll take top spot of his best life decisions. It’s a black-gold band with a thick platinum stripe down the centre. It’s simple ring with a subtle band of black diamonds inset on one side and it’s been the source of Shiro’s inner pain for weeks. He had Lance covertly get Keith’s ring size, and he’s not quite sure how Lance managed to do so without getting caught, but he hopes it’s correct.

Shiro’s incredibly nervous about asking Keith to marry him. He’s written ten different iterations of the speech he’ll give before he proposes, and he hopes to remember at least one of them. He’s hoping it’s not the extremely flowery yet explicit one he wrote on the back of a bar napkin when Keith was out of town and Shiro was drunk with friends after work. Shiro thinks there might be a better way to tell Keith that he admires his tenacity and his quiet humor than writing beer-stained soliloquies about what they do in bed.

Shiro’s almost a hundred percent certain Keith will say yes, but his palms still start to sweat if he thinks about it for too long. A hundred different scenarios run through his head, including not-so-great ones where Keith awkwardly tells him that he’s not ready or he generally does not believe in the institution of marriage.

He knows that if Keith says no they’ve still got a healthy relationship, but then Shiro has a dream one night that Keith rejects his proposal because he’s about to run away with Sven. He wakes up in a cold sweat that night and paws around the bed till his hand lands on Keith’s shoulder. Shiro tells Keith about the dream minus the proposal part in the morning, playing it off as a joke, and hides the fleeting panic he feels when Keith pretends to look contemplative at the story.

Shiro tries to pop the question many times, each at the tail end of an evening out. His nerves get the better of him each time, with the exception of one where Keith had politely informed Shiro in the middle of an Italian restaurant that he had been thinking about slipping under the table and sucking Shiro off for the past half hour and Shiro’s brain shut down. Shiro thinks the nervousness gets worse each time around and if he’s not careful, it might cause him to self-combust. On the plus side, Keith seems to be enjoying the increasingly lavish dates Shiro takes him on, and doesn’t question why there’s an occasional string quartet at their table.

There’s no set time for Shiro to propose by— he tells himself there’s no expiry date on their relationship that he needs to beat, that he should take his time and not rush out a hasty proposal. It takes him a good week of him telling himself that and not opening the ring box to stare at the band, before he finally accepts it.

And when he does, the moment presents itself on a silver platter. Or, more accurately, it presents itself in the parking lot of a gas station that smells like it’s perpetually damp.

There’s no special occasion leading up to it. Shiro just wants to take Keith to a nice dinner, and then to the hotel where he’s rented them out a nice penthouse suite that’s got a pool on its deck. Keith doesn’t know about the small trip yet, but it’s a Friday night, Shiro’s already sent a set of clothes for them ahead of time, and Shiro can’t imagine him complaining about going away for a weekend. He spends the ten free minutes he gets at work daydreaming about lounging in a jacuzzi as Keith drapes over his side and pours champagne into the bubbling water. It gets him through a meeting that stretches into the early evening, gets him through the last trails of rush hour traffic, and stops him from immediately pouncing on Keith when they get ready.

Keith’s personal fashion taste flip flops between being completely atrocious and being comprised of so many blacks that from a distance, he could pass off as a bad boy that’s aware of the effect his clothing has on people. Shiro buys him clothes that let him fall somewhere in the in between, and while he doesn’t insist Keith wear them unless he wants to, it warms him to know that Keith saves them for their dates so that he can make sure Shiro sees him in them. Right now, he’s wearing a dark blue blazer that emphasizes his shoulders and tapers in at his waist. The shirt underneath is a soft and simple white cotton, and Shiro has to resist the urge to run his hands over Keith as Keith buttons it up.

When Keith’s in the bathroom trying to tame his bangs down, Shiro opens up one of the drawers in the closet. It’s one that’s barely used, but it stores an Omega Seamaster that Shiro wants to wear for the night and the velvet ring box that he can’t stop thinking about. He knows he told himself to not expect anything out of this weekend, but Shiro slips it into the pocket of his overcoat anyways.

The restaurant is a Spanish grill that sits on the rooftop of midrise in a quiet waterfront town just north of the city. It’s a bit of a drive away, but there’s something about looking out onto the docks without the general noise of the city that screams romantic to Shiro. He vaguely remembers when he was just out of college and thinking that disguising take out Italian as a home-cooked meal was his idea of romance, and is thankful he managed to mature out of it, mostly.

They talk about their days, Keith telling Shiro about the latest round of office drama that no one thinks he’s privy to. Keith has made a new set of friends at the office, but they think he’s less susceptible to picking up drama than he lets on, and openly discuss whatever gossip’s circulating. It’s not actually of any interest to Keith but he does have a good laugh with Shiro over it. In turn, Shiro tells Keith about Allura emailing Lance that she’s coming into town and Lance not finding out he’s the only one she’s told till he brought it up with Shiro. They reach the outskirts of their city and just as Shiro pulls off the ramp and turns onto a sideroad, he runs over a deep pothole at a weird angle.

He swears as he hears the _thunk_ of the tire hitting the gap hard and cringes when he feels the car start to wobble. Keith points out a gas station a few hundred meters away, and by the time Shiro manages to pull in and park under one of the large lamps, the tire under the passenger’s side has gone completely flat. Under the light, Shiro can see a hole in the tire, and he can feel all the hopes of a romantic night start to slowly fade away.

“I’ll call triple A,” Shiro says, crossing his arms over his chest. Shiro’s about to go get his phone from the back of his car where their coats lie in a pile, when he hears the back door of the car opening. He looks over and sees Keith pop the floor of the boot and haul out the spare tire. His sleeves are already rolled up, his hair tucked behind his ears, and his expression is determined. The blue blazer sits neatly folded on the roof of the car.

Shiro knows how to change a tire too. He’s pretty sure any idiot can give a simple guess as to how to do it. But Keith works swiftly, faster than any average person would. He’s got the same look on his face that he had when they had stayed over at his parents house and Keith had got to spend some quality time with his old motorcycle. Shiro’s mouth goes a little dry as Keith cranks the jack wedged under the car to lift it, and starts to unscrew the lugnuts. He knows he can do more than just stand and watch Keith complete a basic task, but Keith’s forearms and nimble fingers are on display and Shiro feels compelled to stare.

“I can call someone,” He says again, and Keith grunts in reply as he pries off the flat tire. It’s then that Shiro’s hit with a wave of urgency, and he loops around the car to open the door and hunt for his jacket in the pile of coats. He feels around the fabric and finds the shape of a box. He digs into the pocket and pulls it out, and loops back around to where Keith’s fastening the last bolt on the new wheel.

“Hey,” He says, just as Keith’s finished. Keith looks up at him from where he’s crouching beside the car.

“S’all done,” Keith says. “I think we might be able to make it in time for dinner, but I don’t know how long this tire’s supposed to hold up for. It might be better just to go home and get it fixed in the morning instead of getting stuck out here.”

“Alright,” Shiro says. He doesn’t give himself time to build up any of the courage he’s been trying to collect over the past few weeks. He figures it’s now or never, which doesn’t leave much time for an inner pep talk. He pulls the box out from his pocket, and Keith’s eyes widen as Shiro gets down on one  knee. Keith’s absolutely frozen as Shiro pops it open and finally manages to get out the words.

“Marry me,” Shiro says.

A long, drawn out silence stretches over them. Keith’s not jumping with joy, he’s not enveloping Shiro into a huge hug and saying yes. There’s no automatic response, and Keith looks surprised in a way that Shiro cannot assess. Keith’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head, and each second that ticks by without Keith replying is another year off Shiro’s cumulative lifespan.

He desperately needs Keith to say something. Anything.

Keith gets up, and opens the door to the back of the car. He leans in, and Shiro remains rooted to the spot on the gravel. Small rocks bite into his knee, but at the moment his entire being has calcified and has rendered him unable to move. Keith’s still silent as he rustles in the back, and Shiro wonders if wishing for lightning to come strike him down would be too dramatic.

Keith reappears and slams the door of the car shut. He’s still got a look of disbelief in his eyes, and it takes ten whole seconds for Shiro to see what Keith’s got in a death grip in his hands. It’s a sleek black box, identical to the one that Shiro’s still holding open in Keith’s direction. Keith turns it over in his hand, and Shiro sees an identical logo embossed onto the front. Keith opens it, turns it towards Shiro, and the ring he had been agonizing over for weeks stares back at him, glinting under the flourescent light of the gas station.

Slowly, Shiro looks at the contents of his own box. It’s an unfamiliar ring, rose gold with a band of black running around the centre. Shiro stares at it for a good ten seconds before dragging his gaze back to Keith, mirroring his bewildered expression.

“This is a yes, right?” Shiro asks finally, faintly, and suddenly finds himself getting hauled up to his feet.

A thousand thoughts barrel through him all at once. The very first one tells him that he has to be more attentive as to whose pockets he’s picking through. The second thought adds onto the first; he needs to buy Keith a jacket that’s not similar to his in colour and style. The third thought, the important one that threatens to consume him as Keith throws his arms around Shiro and pulls him into a kiss, is the realization that Keith too has been preparing for this moment. Keith wants to marry Shiro, just like Shiro wants to marry Keith, and Keith had plans for proposing as well.

It’s a lot for Shiro to process, almost an overwhelming amount of euphoria, so he tries to center himself in the moment and focus on the man in his arms that’s peppering kisses on his face.

“The rings,” He manages to say, and Keith immediately takes the box from him.

They exchange the rings, and Shiro’s slides so perfectly over his finger that he wonders if Keith had some help as well. There is one lone whoop from the station attendant filling up gas for a customer a few feet away. They clap and the customer leans out of the driver’s window to watch as Shiro and Keith grab each other into another enthusiastic kiss, both smiling so hard it hurts. This has been the best decision Shiro’s ever made, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt like a luckier man than he does in this moment. He forgot to deliver the speech, the grand ode to their relationship that he wanted to say before he asked Keith to marry him, but he figures he’ll have the wedding vows to make up for it.

 

* * *

 

They’re not going to make it in time for their dinner reservation and it’s too late for them to take the car in anywhere to get a proper tire fitted on. The spare comes with good mileage, so Shiro drives them instead to the hotel, throws the keys to the valet, and sequesters his car into being a tomorrow problem. For tonight, he’s got bigger priorities. Keith is more than happy to hear that Shiro rented a hotel for the weekend, and has told Shiro point blank he has no intentions of leaving the room till they have to go back home.

They have company on the elevator, people who stepped on before Shiro could swipe the direct access card, so Shiro has to wait the painful few minutes it takes to get to their suite before he can slam Keith against the door he just closed. Keith opens his mouth beautifully for Shiro, letting his tongue through automatically as he wraps his hands around Shiro’s biceps.

Shiro kicks apart Keith’s legs so that he can wedge a thigh in between them, and starts hiking Keith up. Keith immediately rolls down on it and moans against Shiro’s mouth, the sound reverberating till Shiro’s core. His mind’s swimming, heady with desire and urgency and there’s nothing more he wants to do in this moment than take Keith for all he’s worth.

“Where’s the bed?” Keith pulls back, and Shiro immediately goes in for his neck. He grips Keith firmly with both hands and grinds him down harder against his thigh till he’s satisfied with how prominently Keith’s showing his interest.

“Leave it,” Shiro whispers against skin, reaching down to palm at Keith through his pants. “Gonna fuck you on the spot.”

He removes his hands so that he can shuck off his coat but as soon as the fabric hits the ground, Keith’s got an iron grip on his wrists. He places Shiro’s hands back on his hips and Shiro takes the cue, sliding them in past the waistband as he continues to move Keith against him. Keith twists his hand in the front of Shiro’s shirt and yanks. Shiro’s about to make good on his words, is about to drop them both down and bend Keith’s knees to his ears, but Keith freezes and draws back and goes wide eyed.

“Shit,” He says, and Shiro looks down to where Keith’s staring. There’s a mess of smudged black finger prints over the expensive purple material, all dirt from when Keith had put on the spare tire. Keith’s hands are still covered in grease, and he looks almost pained when he speaks next.

“I have to shower,” He says, and Shiro tries to kiss him, tries to tell him that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to touch anywhere, he can lay back and let Shiro pour praise over his body like water. But Keith’s insistent on it and pushes Shiro off of him. Shiro’s tempted to follow him into the shower, but Keith tells him firmly to wait on the bed.

“Keep your clothes on,” Keith says before shutting the door of the washroom in Shiro’s face. He hears the soft click of the lock and knows that the orders are firm.

He calls the concierge and asks them to deliver a bottle of high-end Moët in a bucket of ice as soon as possible. The worker delivers the drinks and two crystal glasses within two minutes of his call and Shiro tips them a hundred. He picks up his jacket off the floor on the way to their bedroom.  It’s giant with glass doors that lead out onto the deck with the pool, and a sleek double king in the centre of it. Shiro slides his jacket on and catches sight of himself in the mirror. He hones in on the gold and black ring that sits on his left hand and the way the low warm light of the room catches it and for maybe the tenth time in the hour, can’t believe that he’s managed to win a lottery.

He kicks off his shoes and brings the bucket over to the bed. He pulls the comforter out with one hand from where it’s tucked under the mattress and starts to push it to the side just as Keith enters the room. He looks like he hastily towelled off, drops of water still clinging to his shoulders, towel slung low around his hips.

“What’s that?” Keith asks, and Shiro’s about to turn with two glasses in his hand when he finds the bucket getting taken from his hand and Keith pushing him onto the bed. Shiro props himself up on the headboard and Keith swings a leg over him. The towel is barely clinging on, and Shiro has to resist the temptation to rip it off like an animal. Keith works fast, dropping the bucket beside their bed and wiggling his eyebrows as he starts to unwrap the foil from the head.

“It’s for us,” Shiro says, watching Keith face the bottle away from them. He’s distracted by a trickle of water that’s quickly drying on Keith’s chest, and almost misses Keith turning the wire key and turning the bottle.  

There’s the soft telltale _pop_ of the cork, and Keith yanks it off and throws it into the bucket. Shiro’s about to reach down for the forgotten glasses in the bucket, but Keith tips his head back and takes a long swig. The champagne drips down his hand, down his forearm, down the corners of his mouth and Shiro’s got the urge to lick it off.

“Thought it’d be good to celebrate,” Shiro says, amused as Keith wipes at his mouth.

“Yeah?” Keith scoots further up Shiro’s lap, and the towel drops down even lower, exposing a dark patch of soft hair that makes Shiro’s mouth dry. Shiro’s staring, and doesn’t catch it till he’s disrupted by Keith tipping his chin back with a finger. He presses his thumb against the seam of Shiro’s mouth and Shiro opens, letting it in. He bites the tip and sucks it in further, before feeling the cool press of glass against his lips. He lets the bubbly drink pour down his throat, letting the alcohol warm him before Keith removes it and kisses him. They share the taste of the champagne, and Keith manages to land the bottle on the table before cupping Shiro’s face with both hands and tilting his face so they can kiss even deeper.

“We’ll finish it later,” Keith breathes in between, and Shiro slips his tongue in.

Shiro drinks it in all in; the sweet taste of the champagne, the goosebumps across Keith’s skin, the weight of him against Shiro. Shiro pulls at the thick white towel and Keith pushes forward onto his knees, letting it slide off. Keith makes to sit back down, but Shiro shoots one of his hands up to stop him, splaying it across Keith’s lower back so that he stays up. Shiro wraps a hand around Keith, stroking him, and looks up at him with a hunger.

“Let me taste you,” He says, and  likes how even after years, Keith’s cheeks still flush as he nods.

Shiro urges him forward with his hand, urges him till he’s pressing against Shiro’s mouth. Shiro opens up slowly, taking in the slightest amount and giving teasing licks to the underside. He can feel Keith shudder slightly, but Keith makes no move as Shiro teases him with his tongue. Keith’s fully hard though, so Shiro knows he’s got enough room for him to make Keith act the way he wants.

“You have to take what you want baby,” He murmurs, rubbing a circle into Keith’s hip as he gets a brainwave.

Shiro drops Keith from his mouth and reaches for the lube he had transferred from his jacket pocket to the night stand, and holds it up to Keith. Keith obediently pops the cap open with his teeth, eyes going dark as he watches Shiro coat his fingers liberally. Shiro doesn’t let him sit back down again. He takes Keith in one hand and slides his other in between Keith’s legs, teasing but not quite pushing in yet, not till he takes Keith in again.

The effect is beautiful— Keith lets out a moan and arches, pushing into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro draws both his hands closer so that he can pin Keith to his face the way he wants, having Keith fuck it while he steadily works him loose with his hand. Keith keeps his movements shallow as Shiro adds a second finger, and Shiro tries to encourage him by hooking his fingers and searching within Keith. It’s not till Shiro’s three fingers deep, pressing against a spot that causes Keith to give a particularly hard thrust into his mouth before he withdraws and tries to roll back onto Shiro’s fingers, that Shiro’s truly satisfied.

Shiro takes Keith in deep enough that his nose is pressing against Keith’s skin and the smell of hotel soap floods his senses. Keith’s got the back of his head in a vise-like grip as Shiro sucks him off and by the way it wavers, Shiro knows he’s close. He can hear Keith chant his name under his breath, punctuated by sharp gasps every time Shiro lets his mouth hang open and lets Keith slide across his tongue. Shiro closes his eyes and hums, and feels fingers weave through his hair. They twitch like Keith can’t quite decide if he wants to tug Shiro off of him or not.

“I want to come with you in me,” Keith's voice is heavy, low and sultry in a way that would be extremely inviting if Shiro hadn’t already decided he was going to make Keith forget his own name.

Shiro pulls off, lets the head rest on his tongue as he swirls lightly. He lets Keith fall from his mouth before he leans in and kisses Keith’s lower abdomen. He takes skin between his teeth and sucks, biting down and leaving a nice dark bruise in his wake. He curls his fingers, and Keith involuntarily shudders in his hands. Shiro can see a slight tremor in Keith's legs and grins up at him. He takes Keith back in his free hand gives it one small kitten lick before looking up at him.

“You'll come like that too,” Shiro says, before opening his mouth and letting his jaw go slack.

He pushes Keith into his mouth, taking him in all in one go, hollowing out his cheeks to make it tighter. He moves Keith, closes his eyes and takes him deep as his fingers press against a spot that has Keith swearing and digging his fingers into Shiro’s scalp. It doesn't take much till Keith's rocking enthusiastically of his own volition, sandwiched between Shiro’s mouth and Shiro’s hands. He can hear the soft grunts above him and hopes Keith knows that this is just a fraction of how Shiro wants to take him apart.

It doesn't take Keith long to come after that, spilling into Shiro’s mouth, hips stuttering as they press forward. Shiro swallows  it down, withdrawing his fingers so he can grip Keith’s hips with both hands and keep him pressed in until Keith’s completely spent.

And it doesn’t take Shiro long after _that_ to push Keith onto his back, waiting only a few minutes for Keith to catch his breath before he starts to go at him again. He slowly keeps opening him up till Keith’s rolling down onto Shiro’s fingers, eager if not fully hard yet. Shiro strips himself of his shirt, but Keith tells him to keep his pants on, tells him he likes the sting of the zipper against his skin. Shiro keeps it in mind as he pulls them down just enough so that he can tug himself. He wraps Keith’s legs around him, lifts him up by the hips, and starts to grind against him, slipping in between the wetness to tease him. Keith pushes back, trying to chase it, but Shiro makes sure his hold is strong and certain enough that Keith can only let him rut against him.

“Only when you’re ready babe,” Shiro grits out, and it’s taking most of his self control not to just start slicking up immediately and slipping in. On one level, he wants to make sure Keith can enjoy it; on another level, he wants to make Keith come more than once, more than twice, enough times that it’s another permanent mark that Shiro leaves in his mind.

“ _If_ you’re ready,” He adds as an afterthought, sitting back onto his heels and smoothing a hand over Keith’s sternum before reaching out to play with his chest. That does the trick, because Keith’s nothing if not a man that loves to rise to a challenge. Shiro watches as Keith snakes a hand down while looking at him, eyes half hooded and tongue peeking out to wet his lips. Keith’s spread out in front of Shiro like a feast, and even if they live together, even if Shiro gets to see him like this on a regular basis, it never gets old for him. Keith’s mouth falls open and his brows furrow as his breathing starts to get louder.

Shiro shifts his free hand from Keith’s chest to his lips, tapping his middle and ring finger against Keith’s lips.

“Is this good enough for you?” Keith asks, mouth moving against the pads of Shiro’s fingertips.

“You know it is, baby,” Shiro says gently and presses in his fingers. Keith obeys, swallowing them down as he continues to pull at himself.

Keith’s making lush sounds around him and this would be enough for Shiro if the need to make Keith as loud as possible wasn’t still prominent in the forefront of his brain. That thought is what allows Shiro to control himself when Keith’s finally hard enough and raring to go again. He turns Keith over onto his belly, slicks himself up, and bites his lip while he presses in.

No matter how familiar it is, Shiro always gets lost in the initial drag of the heat, in the feeling of Keith taking him so well. It’s wet and slick and when he reaches in between Keith’s legs, he can feel the lube that’s dripped down the inside of his thighs. He go slow, waits for Keith to get adjusted, to get demanding before he starts to move in earnest, chest pressed in a hot line against Keith’s back as he pulls out short noises from him.

“More,” Keith grits out, reaching back to tug at whatever strands of Shiro’s hair he can grasp at. Shiro bites into Keith’s shoulder and uses it as an anchor as he buries himself deep within, over and over again. They’ve made a proper mess of themselves already, and Shiro wants to take full advantage of how well he’s prepped Keith.

It’s still not enough for Keith, because Shiro hears him mumble something under his breath. It sounds too coherent for his liking, and he kisses Keith’s cheek before whispering back into his ear. Keith goes red and nods, and Shiro withdraws halfway as he pushes up. He has to take a deep breath in, reaching down to squeeze and calm his nerves a little, bringing himself himself back from the edge. For Shiro, holding out works better, making it feel like a gut punch in the best way every time he comes.

Shiro searches for the lube in the sheets, and upturns it when he finds it, dripping liquid down between where they’re joined. Keith props himself up on his elbows to look back at Shiro and Shiro curls over him to give him a slow, biting kiss before sitting back and breathing in. Shiro circles Keith’s hips with his hands, angles him the way Shiro’s memorized, and thrusts into him _hard_. Keith yelps out Shiro’s name and arches back on his own volition when Shiro withdraws again. It’s Keith’s tell, his way of showing Shiro that he’s ready, and Shiro’s more than happy to provide.

The bed shakes underneath them from the force, the thick comforter sliding off the mattress as Shiro lays it into Keith, gripping him so hard that small dark bruises start to form under his fingers. He hikes up Keith’s hips further, pushes Keith between the shoulder blades so that his torso curves nicely into the bed and so that Keith yells when Shiro drives into him next. It eggs Shiro on to give it to Keith till Keith’s knuckles go white from where they’re fisted in the sheets, white pillow underneath him growing dark and wet.

Keith fumbles between praising Shiro and crying out and eventually manages to combine the two. It calls to something primal in Shiro, hearing his name get screamed out so openly in between the disjointed moans and the _yesyesohgodyesyes_. Keith turns his head to muffle the sounds into the bed and Shiro immediately shoots out a hand to card through Keith’s hair and pull him up onto his knees.

There’s a damp patch under where Keith was laying, but Shiro sees that Keith’s still hard and leaking. He knows Keith’s oversensitive, knows Keith likes it when his body becomes rootless but he can still feel Shiro in him, filling him as he moves heavily. He wraps an arm around Keith, just under his chest, and brings the other hand up to circle Keith’s neck. Keith bares it but Shiro doesn’t squeeze.

“Later,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s hair, not breaking the rhythm of his movement. “I already know you’re mine.”

Keith hangs limp like a ragdoll in Shiro's arms, gripping Shiro’s forearm with both his hands, pliant and loose as he lets out short, overstimulated whimpers. There’s still a prominent flush on his cheeks, down his neck and across his shoulders, a sign that Shiro’s doing his job well, something that Shiro takes a lot of pride in.

“You like it, baby?” Shiro breathes out and Keith makes a noise of approval. “Like how I give it to you?”

“Yeah,” Keith’s voice cracks over the word and it’s the last thing he’s going to be able to say for a while because Shiro fucks up into him with enough strength that his thighs start to burn. Keith babbles, lets out moans that sound like they would be words if he had even the slightest capability of being cogent. Keith’s his, and Shiro’s Keith’s, and Shiro can feel the weight behind that thought start to bring him to his physical crescendo.

Shiro’s close to having the rope within him snap, so he decides to show Keith some mercy and circle a large hand around him. The sound that Keith makes when he touches him starts to tip Shiro slowly over the edge; he can feel his own thighs strain and shake as he starts to come. The corners of his vision start to vignette and he uses whatever coherency he has left to jerk Keith off. Shiro moves in Keith, kissing his shoulder and pushing him into his hand till he feels Keith spill hot within it.

The room is drawn into silence as they finish, save for the heavy sounds of their hard breathing. Shiro continues to hold them up, shallowly riding it out until they’re both completely spent, dry and heaving. He’s sensitive, but Shiro wants to soak in the feeling of having Keith around him for a little longer, even though he knows that they’ll be on each other as soon as they’ve had a moment to rest.

Keith exhales in short, broken moans that get a little louder once Shiro starts to slowly slip out. Keith’s gone heavy in his arms, and Shiro tips forward to gently lower him down onto the bed. He shifts and pushes the rest of his own pants off, throwing it off to the side as Keith remains splayed out on his belly. Shiro watches the rise and fall of his back for a moment, admires the bruising that trails down his hips and the red marks on his thighs before leaning down.

He brushes Keith’s hair off his neck and starts a path down his spine, leaving soft, barely-there kisses in his wake. Keith groans, twitching under Shiro’s touch, so Shiro changes course and drops himself down beside Keith instead. Keith flops a hand in Shiro’s direction and Shiro scoots closer, sliding under Keith’s arm. Keith makes a noise and pulls Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro acquiesces, following where Keith’s trying to guide him. He rolls on top of Keith and takes care in making himself comfortable between his legs without accidentally causing Keith any discomfort. Shiro props himself up on his elbows to look down at Keith and gives him a small peck on the lips. Keith tries to chase it and Shiro only makes him work for it a little bit before he’s slotting their lips together.

Heat’s still radiating off their bodies and the sweat has started to stick, but the last thing Shiro wants to do is put any sort of distance between them. They kiss slowly, and Shiro cards his fingers through damp hair. They’re going to have to go back into the shower at one point but even though he’s tired at the moment, Shiro knows it’s going to be hard for them to get there in one go.

“Let’s order something,” He says when they part, looking down at Keith. “I’m starving.”

He finds himself getting tugged down again and this is extremely saccharine, even for Keith. It’s probably the leftover excitement from earlier in the evening; not that Shiro can blame Keith, because he too is trying to wrap his head around it. He’s acutely aware of the weight of the ring on his finger, but unable to comprehend how much he loves the man underneath him.

“God,” Keith exhales, the warm air brushing over Shiro’s face. “I can’t wait to get married.”

“I can’t believe we mixed up the rings,” Shiro says. “We need different coats.”

“Should’ve gone to different stores,” Keith replies, reaching forward to press Shiro’s bangs off his forehead. “But Lance kept recommending this one.”

Probably because Shiro had sent him on fifty errands to that jewellry store. Shiro wonders if Keith had gone to Lance for covert help the same way Shiro did, and that was just Lance’s way of minimizing how much effort he had to put in.

 _Oh well_ , Shiro figures. _All’s well_.

“I’m glad you said yes,” Shiro grins down at Keith. “You didn’t say anything at first and I thought you were having trouble deciding.”

“Yes, it was definitely a hard decision,” Keith deadpans. “Do I want to marry my hot, rich, and extremely athletic boyfriend? Is the fact that I love him with all my heart _really_ enough?”

“ _All_ your heart?” Shiro asks innocently, pretending like this is a new revelation to him and not one that he’s been lucky enough to hear multiple times. Keith tries to give him a flat look but fails, breaking out into a grin. It’s probably obvious that Shiro’s going to tease him for it when he opens his mouth, because Keith wastes no time in cupping the back of Shiro’s head and yanking him down for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro brushes over the black titanium inlay on his ring for the tenth time in five minutes, watching idly as Keith fiddles nervously in front of the mirror. Shiro’s been ready for the past fifteen minutes, but Keith’s not been able to decide which tie he’s holding up matches his suit best. It’s a sleek black Purple Label that Shiro got tailored for this specific occasion, with a patterned inlay matches the satin pocket square Shiro’s got tucked into his own charcoal suit.

“The one on the right is blacker,” Shiro calls out from where he’s sitting on their bed. “Wear that one.”

Keith turns back to glare at Shiro, and Shiro gives him a beaming smile.

“You said that about the left one five minutes ago,” Keith grumbles, and Shiro shrugs. “This is serious.”

Shiro’s already pointed out that Keith had gone into his work’s casual friday wearing long hunter green socks and Nike slides, but Keith had not found it as amusing as Shiro had.

They still have around twenty minutes before they have to leave for the gala; Keith wants to make a good impression because last year, he had stayed in the office to work instead of attending. Keith’s a rising star at the company, but he’s still nervous about having to schmooze and talk at the formal event.

He’s also bringing Shiro along and while Marmora isn’t a direct competitor to Shiro’s company like Gamara is, Keith’s not been very forthcoming about who his fiancé is. Keith’s been able to play it off as being an extremely private person, and has been working hard and excelling at his job well enough that no one tries to pry. It’s not as important to hide it as it was before but Keith didn’t want Shiro’s name to overshadow him when he started at Marmora, not till he made one for himself. Shiro had understood and supported Keith, but he’s a liar if he says he’s not slightly excited about getting shown off by his better half.

It’s been two months since they’ve gotten engaged, and Shiro wonders if the excitement’s ever going to abate. He still feels a sense of satisfaction when he sees Keith play with the ring while he talks on the phone or when Keith calls him his fiancé in front of their friends. The moment’s only going to be surpassed for Shiro when they’re in the large backyard of Shiro’s grandfather’s house exchanging vows. Three of their friends have already gotten ordained so that they can fight over who gets to officiate their wedding; currently, Hunk and Lance are duking it out while Allura’s self-assured that they’ll pick her.

Shiro slides off the bed and stalks towards Keith, who’s holding up both ties against his red dress shirt and squinting. Keith grunts noncommittally when he sees Shiro approach him in the mirror, but lets himself get turned around anyways.

“Give me those,” Shiro says as he tugs the ties out of Keith’s hands. “You’ll be fine tonight. Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” Keith frowns and begins for the tenth time. “Not everyone can knock people over with just their smile. Everytime I try, people ask me if I’m okay and– _mpf._ ”

Shiro cuts Keith off with a kiss, even though Keith still tries to keep talking. Shiro lets him, and doesn’t pay attention to what Keith says in between moving their lips together. Shiro smiles against Keith’s mouth and drops one of the ties while looping the other one around Keith’s neck. Keith tries to reach for his hands but he gently pushes them out of the way as he starts to tie the silk.

“You look good,” Shiro says, looking in between them as he finishes the knot. He smoothes out the fabric, before using the tie to pull Keith closer. “They already like you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Keith presses his lips together like he has a lot more to say, but cups Shiro’s face between his hands instead.

“Thank you,” He says quietly. “I love you.”

He leans up to kiss Shiro again, and Shiro really wishes that they had more than a few more minutes left before their car is supposed to arrive. His hands snake around Keith’s waist and pulls him close, pulls him tight in hopes to ease Keith’s nerves further.

“All I did was tie your tie,” Shiro teases, and dives back in before Keith can form a retort.

Marmora isn’t a _huge_ company like Shiro’s is, but it’s doing well enough to rent out a waterfront venue with a courtyard. Keith spends the entire car ride there fidgeting with his hands and ignoring Shiro’s attempts to make him relax but as soon as he enters the hall, he’s the very picture of cool and collected calm. The event planner monitoring the guest list looks like he’s about to have a conniption when he recognizes Shiro, because Keith and his unidentified plus one had been listed down for a seat at one of the general employee’s tables. Keith tells him that they’re not switching seats and the planner apologizes profusely to Shiro who brushes it off with a good natured smile.

It’s worth it anyways, because everyone at the table looks suitably awe-struck when they see who Keith’s brought to the gala. Despite the fact that he’s done an excellent job at hiding who he’s engaged to, Keith looks incredibly smug when he introduces Shiro to the table at large. He makes sure to enunciate the word _fiancé_ and Shiro wonders if one of these coworkers is the one whom Keith had caught telling some that they thought Keith was too angry, emotional, and greasy to be taken by anyone. Just incase they are, he pulls a chair out for Keith and squeezes his hand once they’re both seated.

It’s nice blending into the crowd for dinner. Normally, Shiro’s seated with groups of people with deep pockets who he’s supposed to charm with his smile and intelligence. Here, he can just dig into the salmon as Keith’s coworkers congratulate Keith on landing a deal for Marmora which will allow the company to start expanding into a mid-sized market they’ve been eying. They make sly jokes as various board members deliver speech after speech, and Shiro faintly wonders what his employees say about him at these events.

He occasionally makes eye contact with the offensive coworker, who’s meek and silent through most of the conversation. Keith holds himself differently with his coworkers; he’s quiet but certain, sharp and controlled. It’s a stark contrast to the man who genuinely contemplated getting a haircut for the event on their way to said event and asked Shiro if it was too late for a career change. Shiro has a deep appreciation for it, and squeezes Keith’s thigh under the table. Keith barely stumbles and when the waiters bring out the dessert, Shiro feels a hand slide over his leg. It slides in, slides dangerously close as Keith rubs a circle into Shiro’s inner thigh. Shiro grabs his wrist in a warning and Keith pinches him before withdrawing his hand. All this is done while they maintain impeccable poker-faces, and none of their dinner mates are any wiser.

After the food’s finished and all the speeches have been delivered, the champagne soaked socializing of the evening starts. A lot of people have noticed Shiro’s presence and try to approach him for conversation. He exchanges a few friendly words, more if he likes the person, and then politely points out he’s here to support Keith and not on behalf of his company. It gets Keith some well-deserved attention from higher-ups that have already heard of his name, and Shiro gets to play the role of the proud partner with great gusto and a glass of Château Margaux.

Eventually, Keith’s boss finds him and places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He’s a large man that stares silently and stoically at Keith. Seemingly picking up on the non-verbal message, Keith nods. He looks over at Shiro, and Shiro gives him an encouraging look. Keith lets himself get herded away to a group of women who look like they could buy this hall for their summer home.

Shiro decides to retreat to the bar to top off his drink, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the overworked bartender. He has a couple more people approach him to talk, and they’re more drunk and friendly than the ones who had flagged him down before. This time he lets the conversation flow for a while longer before telling them that he’s with that guy over there, yes, the one who’s talking to the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, yes _that_ one, and making her snort into her drink.

Shiro can see why Keith’s boss likes him so much; Kolivan holds himself with as much natural rigidity as Keith does, but it’s a little more unnerving to watch him smile along as Keith talks. Lance claims that Keith’s smile is unnerving too, but he is fundamentally wrong and has only seen Keith bare his teeth while they heckle each other. Shiro cuts him some slack though, because Lance _did_ find out Keith’s ring size for him on the sly. Apparently he had done the same for Keith as well, and deeply laments the fact that he wasn’t there to see them both propose at the same time.

There’s a lull in the conversation he’s having with one of the department heads at Marmora and the wine has started to get to his head, so Shiro excuses himself politely to get some air. He thinks about bringing Keith, but the group that Kolivan had dragged Keith to seems to be enamoured with him and Shiro doesn’t want to get in the way. He does his best to quietly slink out of the room, checking his phone so that no one stops him on the way out.

There’s significantly less people and noise outside of the main hall, and moreso when Shiro walks down the lobby. He’s somewhat familiar with this venue, because he had looked at it shortly after he and Keith had gotten engaged. Their ceremony is something they both want to remain small, but Shiro’s itching to have a big reception to show off to the world et al that Keith is his. Shiro likes this one, because it has large windows lining the wall that look out onto the lake. The evening sky’s a light purple as Shiro walks along, brushing his hand along the cool panes. The moon hangs low on the horizon and the sight sobers him a little, as does the thought that this is his life now.

Shiro’s made it to a quieter area now, where there’s a glass door leading out onto a wooden deck. The door’s unlocked so Shiro steps out into the crisp evening air. He can see the dog star twinkle brightly in the distance, and closes his eyes to inhale. The lift of the wine dissipates in his head, and Shiro’s steadily feeling a lot clearer. He runs a thumb over his ring again, thinks about whether or not getting married had ever been part of his greater life  plan. He doesn’t think so, doesn’t think he ever paid attention to his personal life that much, but now he can’t imagine a life any other way.

Marmora is close enough for Keith to easily take the subway to work. It’s also close enough for Shiro to give him a ride or to call him a car, no matter the fact that Keith won’t actually let him do either. It means that the bike Shiro had got him sits in their storage closet untouched; neither of them want to throw it out. Keith claims it’s because he still might need it one day, but Shiro knows they both hold onto it for sentimental value. He knows it’s been over two years, but sometimes it feels like its only been two weeks, and he’s as infatuated with Keith now as he was then.

Shiro counts his blessings every day— he’s fought hard for everything that he’s achieved, but Keith has been easy. Despite any disagreements, despite any arguments, loving Keith feels like second nature to Shiro and he can’t remember how it had been like to not have this feeling. The love he has for this man is ingrained deep within him, and the thought of entering something official and permanent with him makes Shiro’s head light.

He shakes it, and runs his fingers through his hair. He tends to get emotional when he drinks, and only when he drinks, regardless of what anyone else says. He takes another sip of his wine before setting it on the ledge, and feels a hand snake around his waist.

“Hey,” Keith says, voice a little hoarse from all the loud conversation in the loud ballroom. “You’re looking a little lonely out  here.”

“Just waiting for my fiancé,” Shiro says as Keith leans up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hope he doesn’t show up,” Keith grins lazily, face awash in the deep indigo of the darkening sky. It suits him, suits his dark hair and his glimmering smile, suits the deep violets of his eyes and it grasps at Shiro’s heart.

“Why?” Shiro asks, leaning in. “You have something planned?”

“Maybe,” Keith turns and loops his arms around Shiro’s neck. He pulls Shiro in for a kiss that tastes of chardonnay and tiramisu, and Shiro immediately sets to work in licking the taste out of his mouth till it’s only them. It’s increasingly colder, but Shiro likes the brush of the wind against them as his mind centres on the heat in front of him.

“We should probably head in now,” Shiro says finally, even though he’d much rather remain outside. “I think your friends are going to miss you.”

“Kolivan said I have to charm these people,” Keith replies, and doesn’t let Shiro out of his hold. “Said I have, quote unquote, panache.”

Shiro snorts, because it’s not a word that he expected Kolivan to ever use. Everyone’s a little different when they’re in a formal setting, and by the way Keith’s turning a little red, Shiro knows that Kolivan has said those words out loud, in front of people.

“Was it as bad as the time your dad told me you were small because he worked near too much radiation?” Shiro asks, and Keith grumbles and shoves at his shoulders.

“Never remind me of that again,” He says so sternly that it makes Shiro laugh. Keith gives an exaggerated pout as Shiro laughs, and tries to shut Shiro up with his own mouth.

“Don’t tell your man this,” Keith says when they break apart for air. “But I’m really fucking gone on you.”

Shiro laughs, presses his forehead against Keith’s as the breeze gets stronger and the temperature drops further. Keith grips his shoulders and it grounds Shiro to the moment, makes him appreciate how his life has funnelled down to this moment. He holds onto Keith as tight as he can and kisses him again and again and again, till the increasingly bitter bite of the evening cold means nothing to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bangs my pots and pans together* in!every!universe!sheith!is!stupidly!in!love!!!!  
> Anyways thanks for reading, everyone! I deeply appreciate each and every single comment and kudos left on this fic. Thanks for sticking by this fic while it grew and grew lol. I also deeply appreciate all my friends for listening to me never shut up about this fic and proof reading when my brain was too zoinked to do so. [iamtrulytrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtrulytrash/pseuds/iamtrulytrash)/[solvedbuzzfeed](https://solvedbuzzfeed.tumblr.com) i hope this makes up for all the movie tickets and dinners you've bought me and also your offer to help me out of my temporary tax panic....thanks bitch
> 
> anyways once again, big love guys, you can come talk to me on [tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tagteamme)!! if not, i'll see you in the next fic cus y'all know that i'll be back on my bullshit in under 5 seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tagteamme)!!


End file.
